


The Witch and the Sea

by laurpas



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Mermaids, Slow Burn, Torture, Violence, mermaid, poorly written mermaid sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-24 09:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 75,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6149052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurpas/pseuds/laurpas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've been seeing a bunch of mermaid stories and then this prompt stumbled across my dash and, well, I guess I'm writing a mermaid AU.</p><p>Rating to go up with time, tags to be added.</p><p>"A prince with a love of the sea undergoes a terrible shipwreck and wakes, briefly, while being rescued by a mermaid. Obsessed now, he requests the help of a land witch and gives up his “charm” - looks and speech - for a tail. Silent, disfigured, and lost beneath the waves, he discovers that though he can breathe, every breath he takes feels like fire in his chest. Still, he hopes to find the mermaid who saved him and someday earn her heart… "</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fisherman

**Author's Note:**

> I know very little about ships, so I apologize for any inaccuracies. (Please don't be afraid to correct any misconceptions I might have though!)
> 
> This is probably gonna be a slow burn... But we'll see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is now a playlist for this fic! https://open.spotify.com/user/1227108328/playlist/6d0zNqoTMCxUZ4rCEdzYV5

  The water is cold.

  He thinks he will freeze to death before the water has a chance to take him over, though the truth is he can already feel it pooling in his lungs, an intruder as insidious as any assassin. One accidental inhale, two, and now he is choking and gasping and he is somehow both shaking and burning up, his lungs on fire, desperate.

  It is an awful fact that his body will not allow him to just die. No, it will fight. Despite the fact that he keeps dipping below the surface, that he inhales more water than air now, it will fight on. His lungs will attempt to remain open, to wrench any precious piece of oxygen they might find.

  It hurts. It hurts _so badly_.

  Whenever he’d thought of drowning, a possibility that all sailors must accept, he’d imagine slipping peacefully beneath the waves, letting the sea gently take his body.

  But he was wrong- _So wrong_. There is a crack of lightning above him and the waves have been merciless in their assault, sweeping over him and jostling his body along as if it were so much flotsam. He cannot see, eyes sealed shut and stinging from the salt and there is not a single part of his person that does not hurt.

  He had thought, before this, that he respected the sea. That he could even claim to understand her.

  As he finally gives in to the hunger of the ocean, finally lets himself inhale water and water alone, he knows he was wrong. Finally there is black at the edge of his consciousness and though he knows it to be like a poisonous mold he cannot help but welcome it. His body, starving for oxygen, so full of hurt, is finally dying.

  He thinks he may yet find peace in it.

  


  Fenris did not come awake with a gasp, like in any proper novel, but with a sob. His chest hurt, whether from memory or because of the nightmare, and it was a long, long time before he could properly breath again.

  Slowly he curled on to his side, aching and tired despite the amount of time he that spent sleeping these days. Ever since his almost drowning he had locked himself up in his rooms, seeking the safety of steady ground and silence.

  His seclusion had only been further fueled by whispers that his father had been considering permanently stripping him of his military titles, the ones which had given him authority over the navy and, he had naively thought, the ocean.

  It will be for his own good- or at least that is the language it will be couched in.

  He will argue with his father, though both know that it will do little good. He will fight until he can fight no more because that is his way but, ultimately, he knows he will not win.

  His mother will try to soothe him but there is no soothing for the loss he has experienced. Nothing for this grief, nothing that she can give him at least. His one outlet will be taken from him, and the time  that he spent out on the sea, the only time he could ever remember feeling free, will become distant memories.

  Stricken he closed his eyes again. Though his sleep promised nothing but more nightmares it seemed better than the reality of being awake. And maybe, if he was lucky enough or just tired enough, his sleep would be dreamless.

  Fenris had just begun to slip back into sleep when he heard a knock on the door. For a long moment he considered just ignoring it. Surely, if he stayed quiet they would leave eventually?

  Knocking, and then more knocking, told him that whoever was on the other end was determined to talk to him and, sensing he would lose this particular battle he finally he threw the blankets from himself and sat up.

  “A minute,” he barked out. He was dressed only in a thin pair of leggings and though he did not care much for his appearance these days there was still enough of the prince in him to know that he had to look somewhat presentable.

  He dressed swiftly and then moved to the door, pulling it open only to see his father’s Chancellor, a dwarf by the name of Varric Tethras. Briefly he considered shutting the door again (though, truth be told, Varric was one of his father’s courtiers that he did like) but instead stepped back, letting his manners take over.

  “Your Highness,” Varric said by way of greeting before bustling in. Usually he was surrounded by three or four pages at any given time, the King was a busy man and his Chancellor was as well, but he was completely alone this time, further confusing Fenris.

  “My Lord,” he replied and, once Varric had seated himself, uneasily took the chair across from him. “How may I assist you?”

  “Well for starters you could leave your room, maybe socialize with people every once in awhile.” Despite the fact that his words were almost unspeakably rude he still wore the cheerful expression that he always did, “Or you could just leave your room. I know that all that talking to other people has always been difficult for you.”

  Fenris had always known his father’s Chancellor to be a particularly irreverent man, how he had ever attained the position he had Fenris had no idea, but this was beyond the pail.

  Fighting hard not to let his anger overtake him he just barely managed to grit out, “I have been convalescing after my… Accident, as you well know.”

  “It’s been a month,” Varric said, and Fenris was struck, suddenly, by how very gentle his voice had become. “Your physical injuries have long since healed and staying hidden away in your room isn’t doing anyone any good, least of all you.”

  Fenris grunted and turned his head away. He was- He was a prince- _the_ Crown prince, and there was no reason why he should have to pay attention to the drivel of one of his father’s cronies.

  “If my father wished for me to rejoin him at court he should have come himself.” It was no secret that the king was a less than attentive father and while Fenris had made peace with this fact he was not above using it when he saw fit. Like now, when he could use it to try and drive Varric away.

  There was a long sigh on Varric’s end though no real attempt to defend Fenris’ father. “He loves you, you know that? Despite what you might think he-”

  “You speak of things you know nothing about,” Fenris interrupted, his voice acidic.

  “Maybe so,” Varric replied, seeing that this line of argument was clearly going to do nothing for him. “But what about your mother? Your sister? Varania asks after you quite often-”

  Fenris returned his words with a look that he’d often used to silence men under his authority. With Varric it did nothing.

  “-You have to rejoin the real world someday.” And this time there was no smiling on Varric’s part. “Look, what happened to you was bad but-”

  “Cease this,” Fenris cut in and this, finally, silenced the dwarf. That or, perhaps, the fact that he was trembling slightly.

  For a long moment his father’s Chancellor merely stared at him, expression unreadable until finally, with another sigh, he stood up and made his way to the door.

  “Some dignitaries are arriving tonight and there will be a dinner held in their honor. As always a place will be set for you.” He did not look behind him to catch Fenris’ expression but instead left, closing the door quietly behind him, leaving the prince alone with his thoughts.

  


  It was quiet in his rooms, a fact which he had, until now, always appreciated. There was a clock in his bedroom and several in his receiving room that ticked away, as dutiful of servants as any he had ever met, but little else. Although the solar boasted large windows he rarely strayed there since his accident and for good reason- Through the windows he had an excellent view of the capital and, beyond it, the ocean.

  The Sea.

  Years before he’d even been allowed near a ship he’d spent long hours at the windows, watching the ships that sailed in and out of the docks, mesmerized by the way such massive things could so smoothly glide through the water. He had wondered about the kind of person that could operate such machines, had, when he was supposed to be studying maths or his letters, fantasized that someday he might be that kind of person.

  He had been twelve when he had first gotten up the courage to ask his father for permission to visit the shipyard. He hadn’t even been brave enough to ask to go on one of them but it was alright- He just wanted to be _near_ the behemoths, to watch the shiphands playing in the rigging, to feel the salt stinging his eyes, to feel the wind or, if he was lucky enough, the splash of water.

  The King, as it turned out, approved greatly of his son’s interest in ships and the ocean. He bought Fenris several books on cartography, on ships and navigating the ocean. Suddenly Fenris’ studies began to focus on geography and instead of kilometers or grams he was thinking in terms of knots and nautical miles.

  It was enthralling, all of it. But nothing compared to the first day he was allowed aboard a ship, at the young age of fifteen.

  He would remember it forever.

  


  He did not join his parents or the rest of court that night for dinner. Though no one came to visit him he knew that his parents were disappointed in him and that, surely, their patience had to be running out. Eventually he would have to rejoin society, whether he was ready or not, but that night, Fenris decided, would not come for some time yet.

  Instead he took his dinner in his rooms, as he had become accustomed to doing, entertaining himself by reading. Likely there were those that would have joined him but even before the accident he had been a solitary man, prone to spending long amounts of time by himself. Eventually the two clocks in his sitting room chimed out the midnight hour and, sighing he set his book down.

  For a moment he sat, alone, nothing to distract him from his own thoughts.

  He was a coward, to hide up in his rooms as he had been doing for the past month. Varric had been right- He needed to rejoin the living, and, though tonight had not been the night, he needed to do so soon.

  Slowly he rose and made his way to his bed, undressing before sliding under the covers. Sleep had not been much of a friend to him for the past few weeks but that night he let himself slip away into it without much fuss at all.

  


  There is glowing all around him and, though it still stings, he can open his eyes a little. He wonders if this, then, is the Maker’s side but the pain that still manages to permeate so much of his body suggests otherwise.  

  His senses come back slowly, the sound of waves crashing around him dribbles into his ears, drop by drop, and when finally he digs his hands into the soil beneath him he feels wet sand. The glowing intensifies and, carefully, he opens his eyes all the way, trying to take in what is happening to him.

  He is unable to gasp, his lungs still compromised, but he is scarcely able to believe what he sees before him. He would think himself hallucinating, were it not for how real everything feels-The scrape of sand against his raw palms, the awful damp of his clothes and the hurt in his chest.

  He has heard tales of such creatures though, of course, had put little stock in them, convinced they were nothing more than the mad ramblings of seaman who had been away from dry land for too long.

  But what works furiously over him is no myth- The hands that touch him are no less real for being webbed and riddled with scales that shine dully in the light of the moon.

  “Guh,” he tries to speak, but it hurts to do much more than grunt.

  It does not matter, however, for the creature picks up on the fact that he is awake almost immediately and rears up, staring at him.

  Unbelievably, it, or rather the upper half of it, does look human. A male human, if Fenris is to be the judge of it. Its tail, so much like the myths and yet not, is long and heavy looking with scales the color of blood. Vaguely he thinks he can see spines along its tail, even creeping up onto the human portion of its back, but it is so dark and he is so tired.

  Slowly the creature leans forward, blond hair hanging from its head like long clumps of seaweed, and stares into Fenris’ face, apparently intrigued now that he is awake.

  Its eyes are startlingly human, albeit a strange amber color, and below his right eye are several deep, reddish looking scales.

  It makes a noise, nothing that Fenris can discern as language though he suspects it is trying to communicate, and in response Fenris shakes his head and groans. Even if he could understand the creature he doubts that he is capable of much talking at the moment.

   The creature holds up its (his?) hand and slowly brings it to rest against Fenris’ face. There is that glow again and suddenly the throbbing pain in Fenris’ head lifts away. His throat opens and breathing comes easier and though Fenris has always naturally been mistrustful of such magic he is too grateful to even protest.

  Its eyes go soft as it looks upon Fenris and though all of the stories he had ever been told warned of the dangers of such merpeople he can not help but trust the strange creature. It raises its other hands, moving it against Fenris’ cheek as if in caress, and slowly the young prince loses consciousness again.

  This time when Fenris awakes it is not with fear or pain, but a strange sense of loss.

  


   The third night that the diplomats were to stay Fenris finally decided to rejoin court and society at large. Though it irritated him he nevertheless did his best to ignore the whispers and eyes that followed him as he walked amongst the halls. He had, after all nearly died and then hidden in his room for a month afterwards. It was… Understandable that people be curious. Infuriating, but understandable.

  “Fenris!”

  He turned, wide-eyed and a little startled, to see his mother approach him with several ladies in waiting. Her eyes were wide and shining and if he didn’t know any better he would have thought her on the verge of tears.

  Her hands moved towards him, as if to embrace him, but just as soon she pulled back, instead just looking at him. Her eyes were still warm but both knew that such public displays of affection were unacceptable.

  Inclining his head to her as a show of respect he said, “Good morning, Your Majesty. It is good to see you.”

  “And you as well, my Prince.” His mother paused for a moment and then smoothly continued, “Shall we see you tonight? We are to put on a play tonight for our honored guests, and one which I imagine you shall enjoy- A rendition of _The Fisherman and the Siren_.”

  For a moment Fenris felt his heart thump oddly in the his chest but did his best to give his mother a small smile, not wanting her to worry. The Fisherman and the Siren had been one of his favorite stories as a child but now…

   “Of course, I would be delighted to join the party,” he replied instead, and though he did not feel nearly as light as his tone suggested it was worth it to see his mother give him a genuine smile.

  “Very good, my prince. We shall meet again soon.” With that his mother swept past him, her ladies quietly following. Fenris allowed himself to watch them for a long moment, eyes naturally drawn to one who was wearing a deep red dress.

   _The color of…_

He shook his head and then turned back in the opposite direction, his new destination the library.

  


  It was right where he remembered it, the golden lettering now slight faded, the blue leather soft and supple where his fingers traced the letters that formed the title to one of his favorite books.

   _The Fisherman and The Siren_. The nursemaids had likely tired of reading it to him as a child but every night (or almost every night, there was also Old Addie’s tales about her youthful indiscretions and his books of maps) he would settle into bed and then beg whoever was to watch over him to read him the story.

It was actually rather inappropriate material for a child to be reading (or to be read to) but as a young boy, enamored with the ocean and all of her mysteries, he’d held to it tightly. There was adventure and action, pirates and a great deal of nautical jargon that he’d longed to learn like another language.

   And, at the center of it all, a romance for the ages, between the titular fisherman and the siren or, as it was more commonly known, mermaid.

  He pulled the book off the shelf and scanned the room for a suitable place to sit. This time of the day it was mostly empty, a fact for which he was very grateful. He might have finally made it out of his room, but he still didn’t feel quite up to actually socializing.

  Finding a small couch he sat down and settled in to read.  


	2. The Siren

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I don't think I've made this super clear but, at least for now, Fenris has no marking/no white hair/no transformation anything. For reasons that I (hope) will become clear, I am writing him for now as Fenris pre-transformation. This will change, eventually, but it may be some time yet.

  It’d been a particularly bad night- Storms always were. Though he loved the electric feel of the water he was always mentally preparing himself for the wrecks that would occur, the lives that would be lost. It was his own fault, he knew, for living so close to a major coastal area. If he were smart (really smart) he would have left long ago- there was so many miles of open ocean he could live in, far away from the grubby reach of any land dweller.

  Why he did not leave, he could not exactly say. Was it the mystery of people that kept him? Watching the strange creatures as they went about their lives was certainly fascinating. But if he were being honest with himself, and when one spent as much time alone as he did they had no choice but to be, he knew that there was a deeper reason.

  It was the same reason that he lurked about now, agile body cutting through the water easily. This far beneath the waves he was not as much at their mercy, though every so often a strong current would pass through him, jostling him and throwing him off from his course.

  With storms came blood and the loss of life- The land dwellers were foolish enough to believe that their rickety little ships could conquer the ocean and so the sea had no choice but to show them, over and over again, that she was not a thing to submit to the will of such insignificant creatures.

  Though the others, creatures like him, believed that the land dwellers deserved as much Anders was not so certain. 

  Did they deserve to suffer? Did anyone?

  He often found himself lost in these spirals of thoughts as he swam, never coming to any particularly satisfactory conclusion. He only knew this: He was capable of helping and he would, whether the creature was one of his fellow merpeople or one of those land dwellers. 

  Ahead of him, some miles, he thought he could see the looming body of a ship passing through. Internally he sighed and frowned. No ship had any business being out in a storm like this. Perhaps they were attempting to get back to land, and had fallen prey to a sudden, unexpected storm? But the shore was still some miles away and the boat was moving far too slowly.

  Uneasily Anders began to swim towards it, trying to keep a safe distance while also being close enough to assist any who might need it. Ahead of him the waves roiled and clashed, and he thought he could see the bow of the ship briefly dip beneath the water. 

_ No _ . Things were beginning to drop from the ship and into the ocean- It looked just like crates or great coils of rope but still he increased his pace. It was clear the ship was in trouble and when the bow sank beneath the waves again Anders sent off a little prayer to the great Sea Mother for the souls of those onboard. 

  Blood chilled he continued to watch and when finally he saw the bow break away from the waist of the ship in a magnificent display of destruction he closed his eyes. 

  
  


   He dove and ducked and dived to avoid the pieces of detritus that now littered the waves, searching for any who might have survived the terrible wreck. He had already come across two dead bodies and though he was a stubborn man his hope was quickly fading. The storm had not ceased and he knew that the chances of survival for any person who had managed to find a scrap of jetsam to cling to were quickly dwindling.

  Suddenly he saw the figure of a man ahead of him, desperately trying to keep above the waves. He was kicking furiously, arms waving and clawing at the water that worked so hard to keep him down and Anders breathed a sigh of relief.

_ Alive- finally someone-  _ he could almost watch as the man’s struggles became weaker, as his legs slowed and his head bobbed below the water. He was quickly losing strength and Anders was still so far. With a quick snap of his tail Anders surged forward, intent on his target. He was close, so close-

  He barely suppressed a scream as suddenly one of the masts collapsed into the water, separating him from the other man. With a flick of his tail he swam backwards, barely managing to evade the heavy sails which longed to wrap their arms around him and drag him downwards.

_ Like nets,  _ he could not help but think,  _ nets…  _ The half drowned mast was a mess of oak and sails and rigging, each threatening to trap him if he was not careful. But he also knew that the survivor was on the other side of the debris and if he did not get to him quickly he would lose him as well.

  Scrounging up what courage he could Anders darted forward, doing his best to navigate the complicated mess. Every time his tail touched a splintered piece of wood or the heavy fabric of a sail he flinched, imagining only too easily the feel of rope closing around his limbs, trapping him with no hope of escape.

  His body wailed with the strain he was putting on it- he'd never been the fastest swimmer anyway and he was already pushing himself beyond what he should have. But as an opening in one of the sails appeared ahead he sent up another prayer and dragged from his overtired muscles once last burst of speed.

  It was enough to clear him of the wreckage and suddenly finding himself in relatively open ocean again he allowed himself a little laugh of triumph-

  And then watched as the body of the man he'd so desperately been trying to rescue floated gently past him.

_ Shit, shit shit shit-  _ Anders lurched forward, grasping the man under his arms and tried to make his way to the surface of the water. The closer he got the harder the waves pushed and pulled and he just barely managed to get his and the other man’s head above it. 

  He gasped, his gills flaring outward, trying to keep himself from ducking below the water again despite his instincts. Though merpeople could technically breath air it was always a painful shock to go from one to the other, ripped from the water ocean and exposed to the air above. Panting he looked down at the other man, now hanging limply in his grasp, and weakly tried to shake him.

  This was bad- Very, very bad. He was still alive, that much Anders could tell, but if he didn’t open his eyes and start breathing soon then it was just as likely that he wouldn’t be. Closing his eyes he used his magic, seeking out the broken parts of the man in front of him and groaned when he realized how much water was in his lungs.

_ And broken ribs… Contusions…  _ He needed to get the man to land, and quickly. Desperately he turned and saw that the shore, while not as far away as he had first thought, was still some miles. Could the man even survive the journey? The likelihood decreased which each minute that ticked past and, intent to see this to the end, Anders began swimming, dragging the broken, unconscious body behind him.

  
  


  “Fenris!” He’d been walking towards the Great Hall when he heard a familiar voice calling from behind him, one that he had not heard in many weeks. Slowly he turned, trying to keep his face clear as his sister made her way to him as quickly as she could given the restrictive nature of court dress.

  “I-” She was smiling, albeit tentatively, up at him, as if unsure of what to say. She knew about the accident, of course, but as she was only twelve little else had been explained to her. “I am glad to see you again, brother.” Shuffling a little uncomfortably she continued, “The nursery has been very dull without your visits, you know.”

  “Old Addie hasn’t gone, has she?” He asked, quirking his lips up into a semblance of a smile, wanting to put on a good face for her.

  “No, but ever since Mother Therese overheard that one story about her first lover and the pig-”

  “Ah, yes,  _ that  _ story,”

  “Well, she took away Old Addie’s drink and gave her a stern talking to and since then she’s been no fun at all!”

  It was difficult for Fenris to keep the grin off of his face but he did his best, especially since Varania seemed genuinely frustrated. Still, it felt… Good to feel this good. Good to see his sister, who didn’t look at him with pity.

  “Well I promise I will come by again soon- I’ll even see if I can’t remember some of the other stories Old Addie told me. Like the one with the pirate-”

   “She never told me anything about  _ pirates _ !” Varania’s eyes widened and she clasped his arm, dragging on it. She was too old for such things, court etiquette having been drilled into her as an infant, as it had been with him, but Fenris did not have the heart to shake her off.

    “Pirates,” he said, finally grinning at her. “Still that reminds me- What  _ are  _ you doing out of the nursery? Surely you did not sneak out?”

   Varania, not yet considered a lady, was supposed to remain in the nursery. She was, of course, allowed out for things like horseback riding lessons or other activities but it was late night and, truly, she should have been to bed by now. 

   “No,” she replied, pursing her lips, “I tried that once and Mother Therese was- Inconsolable. Also, once she had recovered herself, she became even more stern than usual.” Seeming to shake off some distant memory she continued, much more cheerfully, “But Mamae gave me permission to come out tonight view the play because-” Here she seemed to become uncomfortable and briefly looked down at her little shoes. “-Because you were… She said… You were to leave your rooms.”

  His sister was still so young and his parents had worked hard to protect her from the harsh realities of the world, but Varania was also exceedingly bright and Fenris knew that she knew, or at least understood, more of the situation that either he or his parents would have liked to. She knew, likely, that it was impolite to bring it up. But he also knew that she could not leave it- That she loved him and was worried for him, and that it overrode any of her courtly manners.

  It touched him, and suddenly he felt very much the fool for having secluded himself for so long. 

  “Varania,” he said and looked down at her, hand raised as if to clasp her on the shoulder when he heard another voice behind him. 

  “Your Highnesses.” The voice was gravely, so much like his own, and when Fenris turned to him and dropped into a graceful bow he briefly saw the face of the man who he so closely resembled. 

  “Your Majesty,” he rumbled and behind him Varania echoed his words as she moved back up from her curtsy.

  His father watched the both of them before finally nodding and turning around. Fenris and Varania both followed, their spines suddenly much straighter than they had been a few seconds earlier. Both knew that their father was not a man to be lax around and Fenris was particularly anxious given how long he had been away from court.

  Varric slid in beside Fenris and, briefly, muttered, “Good to see you Broody,” before looking over his shoulder at Varania and smiling, “And you too, kiddo.”

  Varania made a face at him before muttering something darkly about how she was not a child and Varric chuckled before looking forward again. He was still waiting for the day that the little spitfire would be formally introduced to court- He could only imagine the hearts she would break. 

  The Queen joined them then, stepping beside her husband after sparing her children a brief smile. Her handmaidens dispersed to the back of the group and then the doors to the Great Hall were being opened and the royal family, in its entirety, was being announced. Vaguely Fenris heard the names of several of the dignitaries that were being announced but he was distracted by the sense that all eyes were suddenly on him.

  It was not a sensation that he was any stranger to but he had been gone for so long and he knew that so many were wondering the same things.

_ What took him so long? _

_ Where are his scars?  _

_ How could have failed so terribly? _

  Swallowing quickly he held his head high and stared straight ahead, doing his best to never make direct eye contact. Ahead of them several long trestle tables had been set up and he knew he was only a few steps away from taking his seat and the meal, as well as entertainment, starting. Then, at least, most of the attention would be off of him.

  He was seated to his father’s right, as he had often been before his accident and then, to his right, was seated one of the dignitaries- Or one of their daughters? She looked rather young to be a noblewoman or ambassador in her own right. Fenris strongly suspected that he was supposed to already know her name and mentally cursed himself for not paying attention earlier.

  “Your Highness,” the girl started as the cuts of meat began to be handed around. Internally Fenris sighed, though outwardly he gave her a polite (but only polite) look of interest. He really did not want to socialize but knew it was required of him. “I am so pleased to see you faring better,” she continued, “I was much aggrieved by your absence.”

  Fenris blinked once, confused by her words. He had never even been formally introduced to this woman and here she was…

  “None can be more relieved than I am, believe me,” he replied and was rewarded with a soft laugh and-  _ Did she just flutter her eyelashes at me? _

  Staring forward and trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut he watched as the props for the play began to be brought out. Briefly he saw the flash of a beaded tail and then stared down at his food. 

  “How lovely,” the woman beside him murmured, voice low, meant only for him. “I adore the theater.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, sparing her another glance, “Have you heard of this play before?” She was actually very pretty, her hair done up in a style that was, he supposed, rather fetching. Though it was subtle this close to her he thought he could see traces of makeup on her face and when she turned to him, having caught him watching her, she gave him a look that he could only have described as smouldering.

  Quickly he looked straight ahead, deciding that it would be best if he focused on the play for the rest of the evening. The woman was obviously someone of import, but, through his own fault, he had no idea who exactly she was.

  “No, I have not, though I must say that I am quite intrigued. Adventure, the sea,  _ and _ a forbidden romance?” Her eyes crinkled at the edges as she gave him a smile that he presumed was supposed to be charming but which came off as vaguely predatory. 

  “It… Is certainly an interesting story.” Shifting slightly in his seat he tried to lean away from the woman, only for his father, who sat to his left, to turn and level him with a look. 

  Fenris had had no chance to talk with his father before this, and knew that there would, of course, be unresolved tension. But something strange was going on, and he had a terrible feeling that it had to do with him. Mentally he reached, and reached, and reached, but could find nothing. 

  His first, sinking thought was that this woman might be a potential bride but he quickly dismissed it. A royal marriage was not simply a matter of two people meeting and deciding that they liked the look of one another. There were- Negotiations and contracts and months of discussion. Though, ultimately, his will did not matter much he would have been included. He was… Certain of this.

  From his left he could feel the heavy weight of his father’s gaze upon him and from his right the subtle brush of a soft, feminine hand against his arm. He did his best to stare straight ahead and to react to neither, to maintain the facade of calm. 

  A hush fell over the crowd then and he watched as the titular siren took her place on stage, long blond locks swept back dramatically from her face, carrying her long, blood-red tail over her arm as she moved slowly towards the unsuspecting fisherman.


	3. The King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, we're probably going to have a few more chapters of "Fenris has a bad time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd and loosely edited, as most all of my work is. if anyone has a hankering to beta though please don't hesitate to let me know!

She was beautiful, stunningly so, and she knew it. Eyes twinkling, she swept her gaze over the audience before quickly lowering her head in a gesture of mock-shyness. Fenris felt his mouth grow dry and, without thinking, grasped his wine goblet, doing his best not to drink it all at once. 

  He was dreaming. He had to be- Nothing else could explain the image that appeared before him, what was clearly an apparition.  _ Blond hair and red- It makes sense- It’s just- A coincidence.  _ His wine did not taste any less sour in his mouth but still he swallowed it, knowing that that had to be it. There was… No other other explanation for such an odd occurrence. 

  A false boat had been erected onstage and inside (or rather, behind) it the Fisherman sat, humming some song to himself. In the original play it was a love song, albeit a rather raunchy one, though that night the actor sang with purer intentions. 

  Meanwhile the siren swam slowly towards him, long, lean body moving sinuously. Along her back he imagined spines and when he looked to her hands and saw that they were not webbed he could not help the disappointment he felt. 

_ Long, ropey hair hanging over him. The smell of salt and brine. A hand, strangely soft, even tender, pressing against his cheek. _

  Onstage the siren tapped at one side of boat and then fled to the other side, hiding beneath the “waves”, causing the fisherman to jerk and turn towards the noise only to see nothing it amiss. Around him people chuckled heartily but Fenris sat stone still, unable to take his eyes off of the fisherman. Was it a coincidence, too, that the man had black hair and dark skin, so much like his own? 

  Of course. It had to be. 

  The siren popped up behind the fisherman’s back, rocking the boat once more and there were collective gasps in the audience as, with a dramatic cry, the fisherman toppled over the side of the boat and into the dark, hungry maws of the sea.

  In actuality the actor landed smoothly, rolling into a ball and then jumping up, pretending to cry for help and struggle against the might of the waves. It was a captivating scene, the man clawing desperately at the side of the boat, trying to get aboard again, knowing that help was far from his reach.

_ Drowning. The creeping darkness and, then, the longing for it. _

  Suddenly Fenris stood up, uncaring of the attention that was now suddenly on him. Beside him he could hear his father order him to sit down but he ignored it, moving quickly to flee the table where he had been sitting near one of the back exits. Onstage the play continued, the actors blithely unaware of the upset that they had caused, and Fenris left to the sounds of the siren calling to the man not to worry, for she would surely save him. 

  
  


  He did not return that night and the next morning it was once again Varric rousing him from his bed with a loud knock at the door, wanting to speak to him. 

  “Doesn’t my father give you more important work?” He sniped after opening the door and seeing the dwarf on the other side, unable to help his foul mood. The nightmares had come again the previous night, robbing him of sleep, and all he wanted was rest- Real rest, not this tossing and turning he’d become so accustomed to.

  “Are you suggesting that the well being of the heir to his kingdom is not one of your father’s top priorities?” Varric had settled himself quite comfortably at Fenris’ desk and idly flipped through a few of his papers as he waited for Fenris to respond.

  “If I were such a priority one would think the man would pay me a visit every once in awhile.”

  “Your dad’s a busy man, doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.” Fenris merely rolled his eyes at his response. The dwarf’s capacity to bullshit was unrivaled. 

  Finally seeing that the man was not going to just leave Fenris gave in and asked the one question that had been gnawing at him,“Who was the woman last night? The- The one sitting next to me?”

  Varric looked up at him, frowning briefly, and raised both eyebrows. 

  “You don't know?”

  Fenris stared at him instead of responding, arms crossed in front of his chest.

  “Right. Well. Shit Broody, you really have been out of the loop.”

  Fenris continued to stare at him, his heart thumping unpleasantly in his chest. “I am aware, care to enlighten me as to what I have been so ignorant to?”

  “Ah… She’s… Kind of your betrothed? Shit, I know your father can be a bit hard but I thought he'd at least speak to you…”

  As gracefully as he could manage Fenris grabbed the nearest chair and sat down, doing his best to breathe. 

  “But,” he started, “She- I-” he had always understood that his marriage would be arranged, had been prepared to do what was best for his country when it came to marriage. But it was all too sudden and his father had not even  _ spoken  _ to him…

  Just as quickly he stood up and began walking towards the door. He would speak with his father who, though harsh, was not truly an unreasonable man. And after all, Fenris did not want to stop this marriage but simply to delay it. He just needed time to adjust, just-

  “Broody, I know you're upset but I  _ really  _ don't think this is a good idea-”

  Fenris completely ignored him, and after doing his best to dress appropriately slammed the door open and stomped away, heart hammering unsteadily in his chest.

  
  


  He found his father surrounded by his advisers, all of whom seemed to be arguing about something. Though it sounded important Fenris did not care- all he could think of was the woman, brushing her fingers against his arm, that predatory gleam in her beautiful eyes.

_ Betrothed _ . This woman he did not know, who had been picked with zero considerations for his tastes, for his wants.

  “Your Majesty,” he said, standing straight before his father, doing his best not to tremble.

  His father looked up at him, a heavy frown on his face, and Fenris returned it with a slightly bowed head. Around them his father’s advisers had gone still, obviously desperate to hear the exchange between father and son. 

  “Did I have an appointment with you?” His father’s question was rhetorical- both knew that Fenris had not, but for once could his father just-

  “I have come to speak with you on an urgent matter,” Fenris said instead and then bit the inside of his cheek. He was already showing his father too much lip, but his anxiety was making him clumsy and, Maker, he needed to speak with the man.

  “You are interrupting the discussion of what I can promise is an even more important issue. Later I believe I may have some spare minutes for you but for now-”

  Fenris knew he should have taken it. It was more than he could have expected but, fool he was, he instead said, “Father,  _ please. _ ”

  If it was possible the room grew quieter than it had even been before and he saw a tremor run through his father's hand. A fool might think it was from fear but Fenris knew the truth- It was from anger, rage that someone had dared to speak back to him, even if that person was his own son. 

  The king sat back in his chair and looked to Fenris, black eyes boring into him and finally said, “I shall hear you then. I must admit that I am curious about this matter that, apparently cannot wait even a few more hours for us to discuss.” Around the king his advisers exchanged glances, clearly wondering if they ought to leave. Without his permission none of them could fathom it and yet…

  Fenris swallowed thickly and replied, “I would ask that this be discussed privately. Between you and I.”

  “Ah, but it is clearly so urgent- Can you even wait for all of my advisers to leave the room? If it is truly so life-or-death-” Though Fenris has suggested nothing of the sort he bit back his tongue rather than correct his father and risk inflaming his temper, “-then perhaps it is even more important for my most trusted advisers to hear of it.”  

  Damn him. Damn his father- He knew he’d never been particularly caring, but at least he could have been less of an  _ ass _ .

  Taking a deep breath Fenris instead said, “I have come to you to speak of- Of rumors of my betrothal. To…” He stopped speaking, partly because it suddenly felt as though all of the oxygen in the room had simply disappeared, and partly because of the look his father was giving him. 

  “This is the reason why you came to interrupt me?”

  Deep down Fenris had known that this would be the result. He had known that going to his father would anger him beyond belief and he knew that it was not worth it. But he had to say something- Had to do anything he could to fight the feeling of suffocating, of- Drowning even, that the thought of marriage to a stranger made him feel.

  “Yes.” He replied simply, squaring his shoulders back and staring his father down. 

  More silence and then his father’s terse order: “Everyone else out.  _ Now _ .”

  Fenris felt a tremble of fear run through him, though he knew realistically that his father would never hurt him, physically anyway. Still, what choice had he had? He was, he decided at that moment, done hiding in his rooms. He was done with the nightmares and being terrified. 

  When the last of his advisers filed out of the room his father leaned back to stare at him, black eyes narrowed. 

  “I do not understand where this is coming from. You have always known it would be your duty to marry for the betterment of your country and its people. And she is not- I do not understand your aversion to her.”

  Fenris was not sure that he fully understood it either. The woman was beautiful and clearly charming and- “I do not even know her name. This is- I do not understand why this is happening all so suddenly. I just- I just need time and…”

  His father’s face softened, and Fenris felt his heart thump unpleasantly. He could not remember the last time his father had been affectionate with him and he worried about what it meant. 

  “I was quite anxious when I heard about the shipwreck you know.” His voice was low and Fenris was unnerved to see his father looking off into the distance, as if reliving some memory. His father… His father did not do that. His was  _ decisive _ . He did not ruminate or regret because that was simply not who he was.

  “My son, my only son, possibly dead.” Fenris felt his heart clench and now he no longer felt afraid but… Ashamed. His father looked up to meet his eyes and Fenris almost flinched away from what he saw there. Just as quickly, however, it was gone, and his father was sitting back, stiff-backed and strong-eyed.

  “You must marry and have children. The safety of our country depends on a clear, strong line of succession. If you have died we would have had no shortage of cousins and half-cousins fighting each other for the throne after my death.

  “You must also give up this- This hobby. The sea and the boats and- The all of it. I can’t… I will not allow what almost happened to… To happen again.”

  His father was no longer looking at him but away again and though he spoke Fenris could only vaguely hear him over the roaring in his ears. “For the- Safety and security of our country, of course. You must be kept safe…”

  “And you will lock me in my rooms to prevent me I suppose?” 

  His father looked back at his sharply and then dropped his eyes. “I will do what I must to keep you safe. You are my heir. That means something.”

  “I see,” Fenris said, though he did not truly. He could not see past the sudden blackness he had been plunged into, could not understand how his feet still worked or his lungs knew how to breathe.

  That was his body, stubborn thing it was. Fighting to stay alive whether he wished it to or not.

  Without another word Fenris turned away from his father and strode from the room. 


	4. The Transformation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fenris Has A Bad Time" Part II ft. body horror
> 
> also, i swear anders will show up in the next chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to get super graphic but yeah, I would consider this chapter to have body horror/at least elements of it.

  He was drunk. He did not think he had ever been this drunk in his life before or, perhaps, he had simply forgotten.  _ Because he was so drunk _ .

  He had waited for the sun to set and then, with relatively little effort, had escaped the castle grounds and travelled into the city on foot. He had worn the clothes some poor, confused servant had lent him and now travelled fairly inconspicuously thanks to them. What was another dark-haired, dark skinned elf after all in a sea of thousands of similar looking people?

  He spent most of the night in the first half-decent (but not  _ too  _ decent) tavern he found. Though wine had always been more to his taste that night he drank whiskey which, for reasons he could not quite explain, seemed much more fitting. It burned at first but eventually he stopped feeling much at all which, really, had been the point entirely. 

  Fenris paid and then, stumbling a little, let himself out of the tavern and into the night. He wandered aimlessly, having no real destination but knowing that he did not want to go home, whatever that meant for him now. The drunkeness, which had made him feel light and warm as he had sat inside of the tavern now sat like him on a heavy weight, making him feel smothered and uncomfortable. Every footstep took more effort than the the last and eventually he lurched into a side alley and slumped to the ground, head hanging low, wanting nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep.

  “Poor little elf, are you in need of some assistance?”

  Fenris’ head bobbed back up, briefly, and he found himself staring into strange eyes, the color of freshly minted gold.

_ Like the man _ , he thought,  _ those other eyes staring into me…  _

__ But no, those had been more amber, warmer than the pair that stared down at him and gleamed like cold metal.

  Her voice, it was hard to see with the hood pulled up but Fenris was fairly certain it was a woman talking to him, had a strange cadence to it. It may him shiver unpleasantly and, trying to suppress a frown, he looked up at her.  

  “I am fine, but I thank you for your concern,” he managed to slur, and let his head fall slightly again.

  This did not deter the woman, who merely crouched down slightly in order to better meet his gaze. “You are an unconvincing liar. Now, it would be most helpful if you would let me aid you.” When Fenris merely stared at her she sighed and said, “I can give you that which you seek: Freedom.” 

  His stomach dropped and then roiled and, briefly, he was worried he was going to be sick all over the woman’s shoes. 

  “Who are you?” He asked, “How do you… How do you know?”

  The woman gave him a smile and, despite himself, he could not help but lean up towards her.  _ Freedom?  _ Could he truly have that? He had every reason to distrust her but his drunkeness or perhaps his own desperation kept him from looking too closely at them.

 “I have my ways. Now, would you come with me?” She stuck her hand out towards him and, after a brief moment of hesitation, Fenris grasped it and let her pull him up. 

  
  


  He walked beside the woman through streets that grew less and less crowded the farther they went. Neither said anything and Fenris could not decide whether it was good or bad. The woman was obviously someone powerful, someone whose perceptions were almost unnaturally accurate. He’d felt this sensation around other people before and then realized suddenly that she was a mage. 

  Though they were rare Fenris had met a few mages in his lifetime. He distrusted them instinctively- It was simply unnatural for another person to hold such power- but he followed along beside this one without much complaint.

  He was drunk and the woman had come offering him the one thing for which he so desperately wished. Freedom from life and all of its attempts to trap him lately. 

  Eventually they were alone, just the two of them walking together, when the mage stopped and turned to him. She lowered her hood and smiled at him, giving him a look that was strangely sly and… Soft? 

  He studied her, as coherently as he could given his inebriated state and finally managed to slur, “What do you want? For me to have…”

  “Your trust, I suppose. But truly I desire nothing… Material.”

  Fenris frowned, knowing that this was too good to be true. 

  “You were clearly suffering,” the woman said, as if by way of explanation, “And I thought to help ease your pain.” 

_ Why him? _

  “And what would this… Entail? How could I be free?”

  “You love the sea greatly, do you not?”

  Fenris could have questioned her seemingly omniscient knowledge but instead just inclined his head towards her.  _ This is madness _ . He knew this, and still he did not pull back

  “And what if I told you that you might yet return to her? That you could live beneath the waves?”

  He thought of drowning briefly, and sirens. Of women who had been luring men to their deaths since the beginning of time. 

  “You would have to leave your family and your life behind,” the woman continued, seemingly without noticing the way Fenris’ thoughts had drifted away. “But is there any price for freedom too great?”

  Fenris thought of freedom. He thought of freedom, and then his sister and mother.

  And then he thought of his father, and of the woman who he was to marry, those predatory eyes, the gleam in them.

  “No,” Fenris said, “I do not believe there is.”

  The woman smiled at him and replied, “Then let us go to the sea, we have work to do.”

  
  


  They stood in knee deep water, the smell of brine and fishrot heavy in the air, the waves crashing against the shore just a few feet away from them. It was dark and the ocean was almost unbearably cold, and each wave that lapped against Fenris’ legs, however gently, made him shift in discomfort. It was also, unfortunately, rather sobering, and the longer that he and the woman, who had begun to frown, stood there the more uncertain he became.

  “The transformation may be uncomfortable,” she said, “But I will do my best to make it as painless as possible.” She raised both hands to him, now glowing with an eerie purple light and Fenris shivered again. It wasn't too late, he tried to remind himself. He could change his mind-

  The woman reached towards him and pressed her hands to his cheeking, cradling his head in her palms, almost like a lover. He closed his eyes and thought of the other creature, red scales, the scrape of webbing against his face and the smell of salt. 

  Her palms were soft and far too human, and without warning, the warm glow of energy transmuted into an inferno that began to engulf him.

  To describe what he felt was impossible- there were no words, only pain.

  His legs buckled and it was only because the woman held him that he did not fall completely beneath the waves and drown. Maker, he wished she would let him drown, anything to escape the  _ pain _ .

  He looked up, as if to beseech the woman who had not, this entire time, stopped, only to see tears running down her voice.

  “I am so sorry,” she said, or rather mouthed. Between the waves and the screaming and the hum of her own energy there was room for little other noise.

  “Sor-” she started again, only to be interrupted by Fenris’ howl of pain as spines suddenly erupted from his back, dark and slick looking with blood and seawater. His legs began to transmute, twisting and deforming and he thrashed, panicked, as they melted together and scales began to cover him, spreading over him like some cancerous growth.

  Had he not been out of his mind with pain he might have formed the thought “This, this is a cost too great for freedom.”

  Instead he continued to scream, until suddenly the witch’s hand passed over his throat, and then he could make no more noises.

 Along the sides of his throat gills appeared, red and shiny like some macabre smile and he gasped wordlessly- the gills gaping, his lungs unsure whether they needed water or air and which would kill him.

  He raised his hands upwards and wordlessly groaned as he saw the webbing between them and-

  It was then that the woman let go of him and he sunk beneath the waves, the cool water doing little to ease the agony that burned through him. He could no longer see the woman, could no longer see much of anything, could see only pain and his death, which he knew to be inevitable now.  _ Freedom _ , he had been a fool, he knew that now. And he was going to pay dearly for it. 

  The black was creeping in again and this time Fenis was more than ready to surrender to it. Unconsciousness promised relief from pain and it was all he could think of now.

  He blinked and then nothing.

  
  


  When he regained consciousness it was to the feeling of him floating, drifting aimlessly through the water. He opened his mouth as if to groan, still in severe pain and was alarmed when no noise would come out.

  Weakly he moved, limbs heavy and his legs- he tried to separate them out, to kick so that he might swim but they were not-

  His eyes popped open and he looked down, struggling to see what had happened to his legs. He remembered pain- so much  _ pain _ but the why was beyond him. It was dark, almost pitch black, and out of instinct he swam to the surface, partially by flailing and partially by allowing his natural buoyancy to carry him up. His legs weren’t working, or at least they were not working as they should have been, but he at least had his arms. 

  Though it was strange Fenris did not stop to wonder why it was that he was able to breathe underwater, nor did he particularly notice until he erupted from beneath the waves and, suddenly, his breathing was becoming more and more difficult. He gasped, trying his best to inhale, but although he was still capable of breathing it was much more difficult than it should have been. Had he accidentally inhaled water again?  _ What had happened to him? _

  Though thoroughly disoriented he nevertheless did his best to take in his surroundings, only for his heart to plummet when he realized he was surrounded by water. Distantly he could see the shore and beyond it the lights of the capital, but it was easily miles away.

  His arms were quickly growing tired and there was nothing for him to cling to in sight. He couldn’t even understand how he’d gotten here- Another shipwreck? But that made no  _ sense _ . In a last ditch effort he tried moving his legs, putting more effort into the motion of his hips, and was shocked to feel himself rising out of the water from the force of his propulsion before falling back deep beneath the waves. 

  He looked down once more, trying to focus his eyes, trying to understand. Though it was still dark his night vision was good and, once he managed to get a firm grasp of his panic, he realized that he could see clearly enough. He just… Could not comprehend what it was that he was seeing. 

  Slowly he raised his hands to his face, eyes traveling along the white, slightly raised lines that now ran down the length of his arms and his torso. He traced them with his fingers, trying not to flinch at the discomfort he felt, following them down from his shoulders to his chest, to his abdomen, and then… 

  Scales. Hard, flat, and strangely smooth. He moved his hips again, slowly, and watched as a massive tail undulated, a tail, as it so happened, that was attached to his body. 

  He screamed, or tried to. His voice still refused to work and, as if to make up for it, he thrashed fruitlessly in the water. Mouth open in a wordless cry he did his best to escape from the reality of his transformation ( _ but Maker, please let this be some horrible nightmare _ ) only for the tail to follow him every which way. 

  Quickly he ran out of energy, still weak and in pain from earlier, and he was left to float aimlessly in the water, despair quickly taking over him. For some time he remained like this until suddenly he could feel the hair on the back of his neck and, revoltingly, the spines on his back stand straight up. 

  Moving up, whatever that meant in the water, he looked around, eyes narrowed. He’d never been one to distrust his instincts and he knew that the ocean was full of danger. Suddenly he realized what a fool he’d been, thrashing and rolling in the water- He could still see the dredges of seafoam from the upset he’d caused and he could not help but wonder if he’d managed to attract the unwanted attention of predators. 

  The water around him remained murky despite his night vision and eerily silent, sound carrying poorly in the water. Still he watched, trying to remain as still as possible when, in a thin stream of moonlight that had managed to penetrate the opaque depths he saw the flash of a wide, grey fin. 

_ Shark.  _


	5. The Mer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anders arrives!

Fenris’ heart stopped momentarily but when it restarted it did so with a vengeance, hammering against the walls of his chest as if it were attempting to leave. 

  He watched as the predator slowly moved towards him, gliding easily, smoothly through the water. Though its eyes were wide and dumb looking there was no doubting its intentions as it angled straight towards Fenris. 

  There were no weapons nearby and though he was, technically, trained in hand to hand combat he knew that it would be fruitless against the shark, especially one so large. The only option, though he hated to admit it, was to run away, however he could manage it. Looking down at his tail he frowned, wriggling his hips a little, only to be rewarded when the rest of his tail snapped and he was pushed backwards a few feet through the water. 

  His movements were unsteady and almost comically (were it not for the shark heading straight towards him) ungraceful but he was beginning to move away. Again he moved, rocking his hips and what had once been his legs, moving, farther and farther away from the creature. His muscles burned with the effort and the strange way of moving but he ignored them, desperate to get away.   

  The shark, seeming to sense that his prey was attempting to escape, suddenly moved, jaw partially open, heading straight for Fenris. Its teeth, rows upon rows of serrated fangs standing up like little soldiers gleaming in the darkness of the water, stared back at Fenris as he quickly began to struggle farther and farther backwards, attempting to outswim it. 

  Mentally he cursed and closed his eyes, before giving another powerful snap of his tail.  

  
  


  Anders swam along lazily, having finished his hunt for food for the night. There were herbs to be gathered he knew- He was running dangerous low on porphyra and though sargassum was never in short supply it was also an exceedingly useful plant. Still he wandered along, not feeling particularly inclined to do much of anything but swim and think. Well, actually, he wanted to be around other mer but it’d been two weeks since one had passed through this area. 

  Had it been the shipwreck, he wondered? Mer often avoided the ocean in the wake of such tragedies and for good reason. Humans always explored the seas where a crash had occurred that much more thoroughly and the danger of discovery was much higher. 

  Still, it’d been weeks, surely they would start coming through again?

  He was distracted however when he saw something flashing up ahead and then two great masses moving together, one of which looked suspiciously like a shark. 

  Anders stilled and swallowed heavily, instinctively backing away. But when he realized that the other creature was another merperson he knew he had no choice but to help them. Closing his eyes momentarily to center himself he snapped his tail and burst forth, speeding towards the pair that had become tangled together.

  Fenris barely noticed the other person heading towards them, arms locked around the shark’s head, trying to keep its jaws shut. The beast thrashed furiously beneath his grasp and for one moment he thought that he might just had gotten the better of it. 

  He relaxed his arms just a fraction too much and suddenly he was thrown from the shark, awkwardly somersaulting through the water. Disoriented he tried to right himself, flailing his arms, when suddenly felt the powerful maws of the shark close around his arm, serrated teeth digging in and holding. He jerked and struggled, uncaring of the damage the shark’s teeth were doing to the tender flesh, when suddenly he saw a bright light and, as if by magic, the shark released him.

  Anders floated in the water, hands outstretched, having just released a lightning spell. It was extremely difficult to control the electricity in such a conducive environment but he thought he’d managed it well. When the shark turned its large, cumbersome head towards him he briefly cringed, seeing the damage his spell had wrought- A long burn mark that ran down the side of the shark’s face, flesh slightly charred. However he could not hold too much pity for the beast, for it just as quickly began swimming towards him, mouth agape, teeth still stained with the dark blood of the other mer. 

  He let out another lightning spell and then another, each blast finding it target and weakening the shark, though not stopping it entirely. He didn’t want to kill the animal, necessarily, but was quickly realizing he would have no choice but to as the predator barreled towards him.

  Snapping his tail he moved just barely out of the shark’s way, avoiding its hungry jaws, only to flinch when the shark whipped around and bashed its hard nose into the side of his tail before opening its mouth again, teeth so close to Anders’ tail he could almost feel them grazing against his scales.

  Without another thought he twisted his hands, sending several large icicles slamming into the shark and trying to twist his large, cumbersome tail out of the way. For a moment there was silence as the shark suddenly came to a stop, blood dissipating slowly from its wounds and into the water, almost like steam. It blinked and struggled a few times and then, finally, it died, soundlessly beginning to float to the seabed below.. 

  Anders took a long moment to collect himself and then finally turned towards the other mer who was holding his arm to his chest and staring at Anders with what he could only describe as a look of anger and… Fear? 

  Slowly Anders raised both of his hands and, trying to move as slowly as he could, waded towards the other man. 

  “Are you alright? You’re bleeding- I can help patch it up-”

  The mer seemed torn, looking at Anders almost as if he were lost, and for a brief moment the mage could have sworn he had seen him before… Somewhere. It was impossible however, for he certainly would have remembered someone who looked like the mer did, stark white hair and tattoos that seemed to glow faintly in the gloom of the water. 

  He was close enough to see the the shark had badly mangled the other mer’s arm and though he tried to remain patient he also began to worrying. There was now a lot of blood in the water, both the shark’s and this other mer’s and it was only a matter of time before yet more predators came. 

  “May I?” He reached his hand out, faintly glowing with healing magic, only for the other mer to flinch away. 

  Right. Well. 

  “I have… Bandages… Herbs, I don’t need to use magic.” It was unusual to find another mer who had such an aversion to magic but, he supposed, they had to be out there. And he, of course, had to run into one. 

  Finally the other man nodded his assent and Anders tried to give him a small smile which, of course, was not returned. Still he tried not to judge too harshly- The other mer was likely in shock from what had just happened. 

  “Well, follow me. Ah, my name is Anders by the way.” Wary Anders turned his back on the other mer and, doing his best to avoid the blood and gore from the shark, began to swim. For a long moment there was stillness behind him until, finally, the other mer seemed to make up his mind and began to follow him. He said nothing which, in all honesty, unnerved Anders.

  It was one thing to live on his own, constantly swimming through lonely oceans, not even a catfish to accompany him on his travels. And another thing entirely to have someone, a real, living mer, beside him who apparently had no interest in speaking at all. 

  “You’re not from around here, are you?” Anders asked, nimbly dodging a long string of kelp only to stop when he heard the sounds of struggles coming from behind him. Blinking he turned, only to met by the sight of the other mer tangled in the kelp, tail flapping fruitlessly, mouth downturned into a grimace. 

  Had he hit his head? It should have been fairly simple to avoid getting tangled in the seaweed and yet…

  Suppressing a sigh Anders wandered back to the man and muttered, “Calm down,” before reaching out to help him. He stopped, however, when the man brought up his head and glared at him, baring his teeth. 

  “Fine, fine, have fun getting yourself out though. Once those things tangle around your tail they’re a bitch to get out of.”

  This seemed to stop the mer who, after a few more attempts to escape the kelp, stopped. He made a motion like he was grunting though no sound gave up and, though his face was still twisted up in annoyance, he finally looked up to Anders as if to ask to help.

  Anders, quite honestly, was not sure what to make of the entire thing. Was the man just unable to speak? Or perhaps he was foreign and spoke another language entirely? He certainly didn’t  _ look  _ like any mer that Anders had seen around these parts. 

  As if to test the man he looked at him and said, “You know, you could use your words…”

  Something flashed in the man’s eyes, though what it was Anders could not entirely say. Anger? Shame? Frustration? Whatever it was, it prompted Anders to take pity on the man and, suppressing a sigh, he swam towards him and helped free him from the kelp. 

  Fenris shot forward immediately, tail moving awkwardly, sending him first one way and then the other. He could feel the shocked and confused eyes of the other mer on him and suddenly he wondered if he shouldn’t have just swum away in the first place. Though the man had rescued him he was also a stranger and a mage besides. 

  Suddenly he burst out laughing and Fenris stopped, huffing silently in indignation and glaring at the blond man. He was in pain, both from his arm and the residual pain of his transformation, and hurt and- And embarrassed and that stupid man was laughing at him. 

  “Are you- Have you- I apologize, but have you ever swum in your life?”

  Had his voice been working Fenris might have informed the man, quite imperiously, that he had been swimming since he was a child, it was simply that he had had legs with which to do so before all of this. But every time he opened his mouth to speak, or to grunt or even just to  _ sigh  _ he found himself incapable of speech. And so he waded there, his injured arm drawn up protectively against his chest, frowning at the other mer. 

  “Right,” the mage said, “Forget I asked.” He moved forward again as if to start swimming again before raising an eyebrow and sending a smile Fenris’ way that he absolutely did not like. “But if you can’t learn to swim and if you can’t keep up I may just have to hold your hand and drag you along.”

  Fenris bristled in response, but, unfortunately, was not able to respond with a cutting reply. Instead he just frowned and then shook his head, as if that could properly communicate  _ Touch me and I’ll take your hand  _ or  _ Are you really joking? Now? _

  Instead he waded towards the other man, his motions slightly jerky. Oh, he’d learn to swim. And he hoped it wiped the stupid smile off of the mer’s face in the process. 

  
  


_ Unnecessary _ , he thought,  _ this is… Undignified.  _ And yet, he also appreciated it more than he could put into words, which made his losing his ability to speak strangely lucky. He’d tried, really, he had, but eventually he had given up and was now being dragged along by the mer. 

  But he wasn’t holding his hand, of course. That would be… That would be worse that undiginified. No, he had just looped one webbed arm through Fenris’ uninjured arm and was now slowly pulling him with him, towards some unknown destination. 

  Though the position made his arm ache it was far better than the constant struggling and flailing had been and with the way that the rest of his body was feeling he was more than happy to just let himself be dragged along. He had a great deal of questions, or rather knew that he should have, but all of them were held at bay by his fatigue. 

  The chattering of the other mer helped with that as well, however. Fenris assumed that he had no one to talk to- Nothing else could explain the torrent of words that spilled from his mouth, the ceaseless prattling that was quickly becoming background noise. At least the other mer didn’t seem to expect him to reply- Fenris honestly doubted he’d be able to get a word in even if he could speak. 

  Slowly he felt his eyelids sliding shut, though he struggled valiantly to remain awake. He was just so tired, and though he did not know the mer at all he had the strangest sensation that he had come across him once and that he had… Well, Fenris was unsure as to what he had done or what his mind clearly thought he had done. But sometimes he would accidentally brush against him and it was like- 

  He had no explanations. 

  He blinked again and this time his eyes did not open again. And if Anders noticed the fact that his companion was now unconscious, well, it stopped his chattering not at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can also find me at lorpus.tumblr.com


	6. A Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter, but one I'm hoping will set up for ~drama~ later.
> 
> Also I'm curious- Is anyone interested in POVs from Fenris' family?

  When Fenris awoke it was very dark and he was very cold. Groggily he lifted his arm and frowned when he saw that it appeared to be wrapped with… Seaweed of all things. Red seaweed, though he couldn’t identify anything about it beyond that. He had the sudden memory of his arm, bloody and mangled, clutched to his chest, but not much beyond that. 

  From somewhere else in the- He was in a cave, wasn’t he? There came the noise of someone, or something, singing, and then Fenris remembered something else. 

  The other man- Or merman- Or mer, or,  _ whatever _ . Slowly he drew his knees, or rather his tail, as close up to his person as he could, trying to think of what to do.

  He couldn’t just leave, he knew that much at least, not when he could barely even manage to swim. And while he distrusted the other mer, he had treated him with more generosity than Fenris might have in his position… So far. 

  But the singing- That really had to stop. Grimacing he rose, or waded, or whatever, from where he had been lying and slowly drifted towards the sound of singing. 

  Obviously he had been placed towards the back of the cave for the more he crept out the brighter it became around him. It was… Unnerving to realize that he was underwater. That he could breathe, and that it did not hurt or feel like drowning. Just past his face a little minnow darted past and he flinched away, scowling at it. 

  “Oh, good, you’re awake,” Fenris’ attention was drawn back to the other man who, thankfully, had stopped singing and was now looking at him with a mix of interest and concern. There was also wariness there, but he kept it relatively well hidden. “How are you feeling?”

  Automatically Fenris opened his mouth to speak but, as with all his previous attempts, nothing came out and he quickly shut it before giving the other man- his name was Anders, wasn’t it?- a curt nod. 

  He still felt awful, in truth, but there was no reason the other man needed to know that. And in any case Fenris suspected there was little that the man could do about it without magic.

  Anders seemed to hesitate, as if unsure about what to do with someone who was not just quiet but completely silently. Finally he settled on, “Are you hungry? I imagine you are.”

  Fenris was, in fact ravenous, but still hesitated for a moment before finally giving in. It wasn’t as if he had much of a choice, not with the fact that he was still injured and could probably not have hunted for himself even if he wanted to. Hunting was not… Was not something he had ever really learned how to do. He couldn’t explain why but he knew this- That whatever life he had led before this had either not allowed or not forced him to. 

  He nodded and approached Anders, blinking as he watched the man turn to pull down a rope from which several fish were attached, as if to store them. The floated slightly in the water and Fenris watched, wordlessly, as he was handed one by Anders who then took one for himself and, apparently without another thought, bit the head off, chewing the cartilage and bones loudly as he began to work again. 

  Fenris was hungry- But he was not  _ that  _ hungry. Stomach turning tumultuously he looked down at the fish, thinking of ways to nibble at it without having to eat any of the organs. 

  Anders, who had been busy eating his fish and taking stock of his herbs, stopped for a moment to look over his shoulder, only to see the other mer taking the tiniest, daintiest, bite of the fish, concentrating mainly along the spine.  

  “You know, the guts are really the best part,”  he said, one eyebrow raised, only to watch the other mer give him a look of disgust. 

  “I-” Anders stopped, a brief, evil smile flitting across his face, and, taking his fish, proceeded to take a large bite out of the abdomen. 

  It was actually kind of impressive, the way the green showed through the other man’s darker skin. Throwing his own fish he turned and quickly made his way back to the back of the cave, patently ignoring Anders’ guffaws of laughter. 

  Even though it had been funny Anders did feel a little bit bad and so, after finishing the one of his fish, of course, slowly made his way back to where he had placed the unconscious mer the previous night. 

  “I apologize friend, but your face was simply too much-” Though Anders suspected he shouldn’t have derived so much pleasure from seeing the other man’s handsome face twist into disgust he couldn’t help himself. 

  The other man turned to face him, arms, even the injured one, crossed over his chest and severe frown on his face. Where he might have delivered a biting remark he was instead forced to just glare at him, trying to express his disgust that way. 

  Finally getting a hold of his laughing and trying to appear, relatively, contrite he said again, “Truly, I apologize.” There was a moment of silence before finally Fenris ducked his head a little, as if in forgiveness. “...Though I’ve never heard of a mer to pass up on fish guts- Or fish head for that matter.”

  Anders took a long moment to look over the other mer, his eyes unconsciously following the lines on his body that, seemed, faintly to glow. 

  “You’re a long way from home, aren’t you?” He mused, wondering if perhaps he were a type of deep-sea mer. But then what was he doing so close to the surface?

  Hesitantly Fenris nodded, seeming to fold in on himself a little under the other mer’s frank gaze. He wasn’t sure, exactly, where home was but it definitely was not here. None of this felt right or familiar and it was all the more alienating to not able to talk about these things or explain them. 

  Anders’ eyes turned sympathetic then and while a part of Fenris’ was irritated at the apparent pity another part felt the tension in his chest ease a little. 

  “Well- I’m sure we’ll find a way to get you home eventually. You’ll probably want that arm to heal first, though.” Turning away and flapping his hand he said, “You’re welcome to stay until then, however,” before leaving the room and Fenris to his own thoughts.

  
  


  Eventually Fenris learned to swim. Not quite as well as Anders, who would spin and twirl in the water, lithe body coiling and twisting and then springing forward like some ribbon, but enough so that he no longer trailed so far behind the other man. It was alright though- He rather enjoyed watching the other mer swim.

  Though he would never admit it (not that he was capable, had he wished) he found the other man… Alluring. Attractive, even. It was hard to not have his eyes drawn in by the way the sunlight played along the dark red scales, lighting them from behind, or how it brought out the subtle streaks of red in his hair.

  And, sometimes, the man would turn back to look at him and give him a small, secretive smile, as if he knew. As if he could understand Fenris, even without words. 

  His arm healed, slowly but surely. Each night Anders would sit next to him, slowly and methodically unwrapping the seaweed and examining the wound that the shark had left. Again and again he would mutter about how it was bound to scar and would offer to heal it using his magic and, again and again, Fenris would firmly shake his head.

  Magic was wrong, though why Fenris could not have said. He associated a great deal of pain with it, but why this was was the case he had no idea, or at least, had very fuzzy memories. A part of him, undoubtedly the smart part of him, knew it was likely a good thing that he could not recall and though he longed to understand he only ever very gingerly tried to reach back into his memories.

  But though Anders was a mage, or a witch, or whatever,  _ he  _ did not seem quite so wrong. Fenris did not associate  _ him  _ with pain but with… Other things. Like the gentle pressure on his arm as he reapplied salve or his bandages, the little grin when he told him one terrible joke after another. Or the way that, sometimes, those brown eyes would glint with something more than mischief, or friendship, when he was looking at Fenris.

  Something, Fenris thought, that he might be feeling himself. 

  
  


  “I don’t like this,” Anders murmured, looking up to the waves where great deals of foam had formed and the ocean water still tossed as if it had been recently disturbed.

  They were swimming, hunting for food and herbs as they often did together. Though there was always danger- Things like sharks or even other mer, most of their journeys had been relatively peaceful. 

  Fenris looked to him, eyebrows raised slightly in the silent way he had learned to communicate.

  “Something smells…” Internally Fenris prepared himself for the awful pun that was about to ensue but instead Anders just frowned and muttered, “Wrong. I can’t explain why. But we should- Return to our cave.” If he noticed (and it seemed unlikely that he did, given the concerned look on his face) that he referred to the cave where they were living as theirs he said nothing.

  Frowning Fenris shook his head and gestured to the small net of fish he’d managed to catch. It would last them for a few days but if they went out just a little longer he could easily gather more. 

  Anders returned his frown just as fiercely and replied, “No- We go now. We can always go out hunting again later.”

  The two men stared at each other, a silent battle of will, before finally Fenris threw his hands up and then, pointedly began to head forward again. If Anders was so worried he could go back to the cave by himself, and Fenris would rejoin him- With a large net of food. He ignored Anders when the other man called him a stubborn fool and just trudged forward, intent.

  Anders watched as the other mer began to swim away, cursing internally. He could try to physically restrain him, but though he was smaller than Anders the mage had quickly learned that he was much, much stronger. 

  For all his strength, however, he was also clearly an inexperienced fighter- Anders had practically had to teach him how to hunt, and all of his suggestions for dealing with sharks and other, aggressive mers, had been to mimic a stabbing motion, even though that was simply was not how mer fought. (What ocean, Anders often found himself wondering, had he come from anyway?) 

  He strongly suspected that he would never solve many of the mysteries that surrounded his friend and that was alright- Everyone deserved their secrets. 

  With a groan he began to swim after him. If he couldn’t convince him to go back to the safety of the cave and he couldn’t drag him back he would just have to stay and make sure that nothing bad happened to him. 

  Briefly he felt a chill run down his back and his spines twitched, straightening a little. Nothing. Nothing bad was going to happen to either of them.


	7. The Hunters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forewarning of canon-typical violence at the end of this chapter
> 
> since fenris is incapable of speaking atm I imagine anders just calling him 'friend' by way of name or thinking of him that way.
> 
> also i could literally write nobles being shitty to each other forever, so there will probably be more of that lol

  “Come back friend, I’m serious,” Anders had been following alongside the other mer, his dread growing with every flick of his tail. It sat heavy and insistent on his chest and he knew that there would be no relief until they were back, home,  _ safe _ .

  The other mer threw him a look over his shoulder as if to say,  _ Scaredy fish _ , and then continued on swimming, ignoring the mage and what he considered to be unfounded worry.

  “We’ve caught more than enough fish- I’m not even sure we’ll be able to eat all of this before it goes bad. Now come on-” He reached forward, wrapping a hand around the other mer’s arm only for Fenris to jerk away and glare at him. Internally Anders stilled, having briefly forgotten the other man’s aversion to being touched and opened his mouth as if to apologize before shutting it.

_ Don’t touch me _ , Fenris wanted to hiss, to spit at the other man, but found himself incapable. He’d become more and more frustrated with his inability to speak the past few weeks- Though Anders seemed to (generally) have a good idea of what he was saying there was this space that existed between them, seemingly insurmountable because of his muteness. What hand signs he could use to communicate were paltry in comparison to the wealth of words he had waiting, locked just beyond his tongue, and the more complicated his gestures became the less Anders seemed to be able to understand him.

  Fenris reminded himself that it was not the mage’s fault that he could not speak, and he certainly could not blame him for not being all-knowing. And so he let the cruel look slid from his face and instead inclined his head to Anders in apology.

  He wanted to tell him that, in his anger, he often lashed out at those who either did not deserve it, but of, course, he could not. And so he was left with looking down between the two of them, hoping that he might understand.

  Besides, Anders was… Right. It was useless to keep hunting, and in any case they had wandered very far from the cave where Fenris had first awoken. Though Anders likely knew where they were Fenris could not have said and, for the first time, he experienced some of the uneasiness that Anders no doubt had been this entire time. 

  With a heavy sigh Anders said, “Good, now, home?” 

  Home. The word felt strange, coming from Anders as it did and especially that it, apparently, included him. But Fenris could not, no matter how hard he thought on it, say where home truly was for him or if he had even ever had a home. He was lost, adrift, and something warm uncurled in him when he realized that he no longer had to feel that way, not if he did not wish to.

  Giving one of Anders his rare, small smiles he nodded and moved as if to follow him, unaware of the shadow that moved in the distance. 

  
  


  “What do you mean you haven’t found him? Where could he have possibly gone?” Fenris’ father sat on his throne, nails digging into the varnished wood of the armchairs. Next to him sat his wife, face downturned as she listened to the man stammering before them. 

  They had sent out the guard almost immediately, suspecting that Fenris might have run off. It was something he had done occasionally as a child that they had both rather hoped he had grown out of, but it appeared that, once more, he had managed to slip out of their grasp. Still, he couldn’t be gone permanently- Whatever his aversion to the marriage or his hurt over being forced to stay on land he was still the crown prince and he knew his duties. 

  He had to… He had to know what pain he caused his parents. The things that were at stake.

  “We do not know, Your Majesty. It seems… Possible he has left the capital and we would ask your permission to begin conducting a wider sweep, as well as to involve the city guard and perhaps- Perhaps some of the military.” The captain of the royal guard, Aveline, bowed her head in supplication. “Please, Your Majesty-”

  “Is this not something you can keep within the Crown? Do you know the panic that this will cause? We have a marriage to contract- Do you understand what is on the line? If-” The King had been about to say something along the lines of ‘If his fiance and her father find out about this’ when the doors to the throne room were thrown open with an impressive, and entirely unnecessary, slam. 

  “Her Highness, Princess Hadriana and his Imperial Majesty Emperor Danarius,” the court crier announced, seeming to completely ignore how the King and Queen both stiffened at their entrance. 

  Both wore unsatisfied expressions on their faces as they approached, rudely moving past the guard in order to stand more directly before the King and the Queen. The Queen was looking at them both nervously, dreading the confrontation to come, while the King was glaring at them.

  “I do not believe I have made myself available to the the public today,” The King said coldly. 

  “We are ‘public’ to you?” Danarius sneered, “Why, I rather thought we were moving towards family.” Next to him his daughter crossed her arms over her chest, glaring down her nose at the regents sitting before her. “I have heard some alarming rumors and have set out to investigate them- Never mind that you should not have tried to withhold this information from us.” 

  Though the King refused to bow before the other man he had admit that he was… Somewhat in the right. An arranged marriage was as much a business contract as anything else and he was now failing to uphold his end of the bargain. He did not believe that Danarius would be so foolish as to declare war on his country but he knew that wars had been started over less.

 “I have said nothing of destroying the betrothal,” The King replied stiffly, “Merely that I am dealing with some matters of state that need not concern you.”

  “This all sounds entirely concerning to me- A betrothal with no groom is not much of a betrothal at all.”

  “There- Will be a groom.” Thickly the King swallowed, forcing himself to reign his temper in. It was difficult, especially when it felt as though he were being cornered. His son was gone and he was- But of course he had to be far more concerned about the larger implications of Fenris’ disappearance. He was not some common man, with common emotions. He was a king, and that meant shouldering much greater burdens, and, sometimes, shutting out his more personal emotions and wants. 

  “And how will you ensure this? My daughter’s hand is a valuable thing, and we will not hesitate to move on to someone capable of upholding their promises.” 

  There was a collective inhalation in the room and the King’s fingers dug even harder into the wood of his throne, trying desperately to grasp at the dregs of his self-control. How  _ dare  _ he, his anger wailed, did the man have no compassion? 

  “My son,” the King breathed, voice twisted with rage from his own emotions and from the offense of Danarius’ words, “Will be returned and the marriage will go forward. I swear on my honor, which until this moment has not once been questioned by someone still capable of breath.”

  Danarius raised an eyebrow, a small smile on his face that made the King want to lunge forward and rip his throat out. “Of course, Your Majesty. I shall leave you to it then- I would hate to distract you from your very important tasks.”

  He turned to look back down at his daughter, Hadriana, who had spent the majority of the conversation looking alternately bored and malicious. “Come, my daughter, shall we enjoy the gardens?”

  “Of course, dearest father,” she replied, voice smooth like glass, “Let’s,” she took her father’s proffered arm and the two slowly began to move from the room.

  By the time they’d left and the doors to the throne room had been closed behind them the King was shaking with poorly contained wrath. Next to him his wife hung her head, shaking her head slightly, tears pricking at her eyelids.

  In a rare moment of public affection the King grasped his wife’s hand and, looking at her, swore, “We will find him. We  _ will  _ find him.”

  They would be blessed with no small problems, but as the Queen took his hand, squeezing it, she supposed that they were not small people, either.

  
  


  “We will find him, will we not father?” Hadriana looked up at Danarius betraying some worry for once. 

  “Of course. He is ours now.” 

  “But what if he is- Well- No more? They cannot find him, perhaps something terrible befell him.” 

  “We will have him, trust me.” Danarius patted her on the arm as they continued to walk, “I know this,” his silver eyes flashed to her, “And you must trust me that all will work out as we wish.”

  “Yes, Father.” Hadriana was not feeling particularly obedient but she suspected that she had no choice. She would trust her father- For now. 

  
  


  The spines on Fenris’ back straightened and he twitched at the strange feeling. There were so many things about this body- A body he knew was not right but which he could not exactly explain- that he wished Anders would explain to him. But as he could not speak and could not ask he remained ignorant. 

  When he looked over at the other mer he realized that the red-gold spines of Ander’s back were standing straight up as well, twitching and moving slightly. There was a deep frown on his face and he was moving far faster than he did usually. He was also uncharacteristically quiet and Fenris found himself unnerved by this more than anything. 

_ You must respect the ocean, there is unfathomable danger beneath the waves.  _ He did not know who had told them this, but their voice was gruff and wise, and faintly, he felt another chill run down his spine. Night was falling and as he swam he drifted a little closer to Anders, watching as the last few rays of sunlight began to be swallowed by the blackness of the ocean water

  His ears twitched, desperately reaching for any noise that might explain the feeling of unease that was quickly beginning to grow within him. Beside him Anders hefted the bag of herbs he carried over his shoulder and moved faster.

  A shadow moved over them and Fenris froze, looking up and coming to a dead halt. 

  “Friend-” Anders’ voice came from his side, distressed but trying hard not to show it. “Keep swimming-”

  The shadow moved again and Fenris realized that it was a boat- He did not know how he knew this but he did, and he also did not know why but boats were good and without thinking he began moving towards it, hand outreached-

  “ _ No _ -” Anders grasped him and began to pull him back. What the hell was his problem? Didn’t he realize the danger of people? Before he could scold him however his attention was drawn back up to the boat which had stopped and rocked slightly in the water, as if people were moving on it.

  From beneath the water both Fenris and Anders watched as the murky apparition of a woman moved to the bow of the ship, staring down at them with hard blue eyes which seemed to pierce through the murky greyness of the water. The fading light of the sun glinted on the armor she wore and when Anders saw the weapon she was holding his heart sank. 

  “Friend,” he said, dropping his bag of herbs and pushing at Fenris, “ _ Swim _ ,”

  Though Fenris knew, suddenly, that they had stumbled into something very bad he refused to leave Anders behind to face whoever it was on the boat. Even as Anders began to form magic in his palm, molding it for his defense and his markings itched and tugged at him, still he stayed. 

  The woman grinned and cocked her weapon, the metal of the harpoon gleaming hungrily. Both she and Anders stared at each, the water beginning to churn and boil as the energy gathered between them, finally reached a terrible crescendo. 

  Anders snapped first, sending out a ball of spirit energy at the woman who aimed and pulled the trigger on her harpoon. Anders ducked to avoid it, only to realize as he was doing so that the woman had not been aiming at him.

_ Shit-  _ He turned in time to see the harpoon, travelling so gracefully through the water, so silently. It was almost beautiful, the way it moved, up until the moment it pierced deeply into his friend’s upper chest.     

  Fenris opened his mouth, back wrenching, body twisting in pain and still no sounds came from his throat, the juxtaposition of his pain and unnatural silence only filling Anders with more horror. He snapped his tail like a whip, cutting through the water between them like the harpoon had only seconds before, hands already glowing with healing energy. 

  The harpoon was embedded deeply and despite the way his friend was thrashing it remained firmly lodged in his flesh, undoubtedly doing more and more damage each time Fenris twisted and attempted to get away from the pain now radiating through his body.  He was barely cognizant enough to see the mage approaching, his entire being consumed with pain. The harpoon was massive, clearly meant to hunting large sea creatures, and the hooks on it meant that his attempts to remove it had only caused him more pain, more gut-wrenching, teeth-gritting, tortuous agony. 

  Suddenly he felt something pull and when he opened his eyes and looked, forcing himself to see through the thick haze of pain that clouded his vision, he realized that the rope attached to the harpoon had gone taut with tension. 

  He tried to yell again and though his body could not make noise it seemed to have the memory of it, seemed to be capable of doing nothing else in the face of such torment. He felt himself begin to be pulled, and if thought he had been in pain before it was nothing compared to what he now faced.

  “Fuck-” Anders, realizing what had happened grasped Fenris, as if he could fight against the pull coming from the boat above them, as if Fenris were some piece of meat to be fought over by two dogs. His magic had died on his hands, briefly, only to be reignited in his desperation to save his friend-

  And then something truly incomprehensible happened.

  One moment Fenris existed, a corporeal being, and the next…

  Anders fell through him.  _ Fell  _ through him, and the harpoon, now freed from his body as well, snapped back through the water, disappearing. Fenris’ body shook with the new pain of- Of whatever this was, the  _ horror  _ of it, and the next he became whole again as the mage stopped touching him. 

  Neither man was capable of understanding what had just happened, but now was not the time- For Fenris was now bleeding heavily into the water and the woman in the ship seemed to realize that her prey had somehow escaped his trap.  

  The last thing Fenris wanted was for Anders to touch him again but he found himself too weak to resist when the other mer grasped him and began swimming away as quickly as he could, furiously stroking through the water. Above them the boat had begun to turn, fighting against the waves in order to give chase and, briefly, Anders found himself sending a prayer for safety out, and a prayer that he might save his friend.

  He could feel the hot pump of his friend’s blood against his chest, could feel the way the other mer slowly began to approach unconsciousness, his weight increasing and further dragging Anders down. 

  Down-  _ Down _ . The ship could follow them from one coast to the other as long as it liked but it could never reach the ocean floor, not like they could. Determined now Anders began to dive, ignoring the way the steadily increasing pressure beat at his skull, or how all but the strongest light began to disappear. 

   Against him his friend had gone still but still he refused to give up hope. He would find safety and then- And then he would save his friend.


	8. Into the Depths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Something I've thought a lot about since writing this is that some of the stuff I've written (esp character reactions/thoughts) can come off as being "Being mute/unable to communicate is terrible! It's the worst!" And I really don't intend that/don't actually believe that irl. I'm not deaf/hearing impaired myself (though being related to quite a few people who are I've had to some exposure to the culture of it, and I would argue it is its own culture) and I'm trying to write the frustrations of not being able to properly communicate while not coming off like a dick. So! That's that note! Please feel free to criticize me/rip me a new one if I do!
> 
> Also, there will be more FenrisFamily POV... Eventually. This chapter was just getting big and I wanted to publish it.
> 
> Also also, again many thank yous to everyone who has commented/left kudos/hung around. I really didn't think this was going to be that long (I looked up and realized I'd somehow already gotten to 20k words with no clear end in sight??) and I appreciate all of the feedback so much.

  The ocean, unbeknownst to those above, was just as varied in its landscape as “dry” land, a wealth of geological architecture that the land dwellers would never know about, and, likely, could never have fully appreciated. In his descent Anders passed slumbering mountains, dormant volcanos and forgotten-looking trenches, gaping like the open mouths of predators. Having forever lived in the, relatively speaking, shallower parts of the sea these scared him but he knew that for now they would be the best place to hide.

  After having used magic to at least stop the bleeding from his friend’s wound he swam for some time, wanting to fully escape the hunters he knew would be eagerly circling overhead, scenting for the faintest taste of blood. Finally he came upon one of the many trenches that dotted the ocean floor, dragging his unconscious friend with him, and took a deep breath. Before him sat the abyss, shyly beckoning to him with promises of sanctuary that he knew to be double-edged at the very best.

  But he had no choice. Within the trenches would be little caverns, carved out nooks in the rough rock wall in which both him and his friend could hide, could rest for a little while without fear of being pursued by predators. 

  And so Anders swallowed his fears- Of the darkness, of the unknown, and delved deeper.

  
  


  Fenris awoke briefly, to the feeling of cold stone at his back and pain, radiating from his upper left chest, insidiously twisting its way around the more vulnerable nerve endings of his body. He saw Anders, leaning over him, furiously attempting to heal him, and something inside of his mind seemed to break off and float to the surface.

_ Scales, red-gold, rough under my hands… _

_ Sand. Hurt. Lungs burning… _

_ He turns to me and tucks a strand of hair (black fringe in my eyes? Not white?) and tells me it will be okay. _

  He didn’t understand what he was seeing, or what the memory meant. Was it, perhaps, from that first night that Anders had found him? But he had not been injured and, respectful of his wishes, Anders had not used his magic on him. 

  “Please,” he could hear the mage muttering under his breath, “Shit,” a pulse of healing magic made Fenris want to groan and curl away but the blood loss had made him too weak to do much more than close his eyes and pray for unconsciousness again.

  He trusted Anders because he had been traveling and living with him for weeks now- Had seen him use his abilities for good, had had to listen to his stupid prattling, had grown to know him and to- To genuinely like him, even if he sometimes pretended he did not.

  But there was also something else there, a memory that teased him mercilessly. Every time he reached, every time he thought he might be able to grasp it, it was pulled away from him, further confusing and frustrating him.

  Anders’ seemed to realize that he’d become conscious again as he stopped focusing his magic into Fenris’ chest and instead leaned over him, face set into a grim mask. 

  “I’m sorry,” he said, and passed a hand over Fenris’ forehead, his magic alighting and the tattoos on Fenris’ face beginning to tug and itch at him. Unconsciousness stole over him once more, clearly a gift from Anders, one that he was all too happy to accept.

  
  


  Hours had passed and he was almost completely drained. There was black creeping at the edges of his vision and he knew that the moment he lay down he would pass out. Fenris was mostly healed- Anders would have prefered to better assess the rest of his body but as it was he was barely keeping himself upright and what use was an unconscious or dead healer? 

  Still, stubborn, he frowned and after moving his hands (which he had kept very carefully hovering over Fenris’ chest, afraid of touching him lest he repeat what had happened before) he made his way up to the man’s throat. 

  There was something there, something that had been drawing him ever since he had begun healing. It was strange and whispered to him, the way that magic sometimes did, and he took a deep breath before moving his hands over the long lines of his friend’s throat. There was magic everywhere in him, magic that Anders either hadn’t understood or hadn’t noticed, twisting itself along the lines of his… Markings. But there in his throat sat something even more remarkable, and heart-breaking.

  It was… a paralysis spell, or at least that was the best he could determine. His friend was lucky that it had been so specifically applied and the wielder apparently so skilled- Just the tiny vocal folds of his throat unable to move and create sound. But it would have been terribly easy to stop the movement of the rest of his respiratory system and kill him, either accidentally or intentionally.

  He’d teased him, at first, for not speaking, ignoring the glares that his friend had shot him or the rude hand gestures that, while Anders had never seen before he nevertheless intuitively understood. (Anders, as it so happened, had often been on the receiving end of such gestures before- many, many types, just not the ones his friend apparently knew.)

  But now… Hands shaking he moved them, his only thought to dispel the magic there. It would be tricky but if he could give this to his friend…

  He would know his name- Could communicate with him beyond hand gestures, could-

  Anders swallowed and closed his eyes, his magic moving tentatively around the delicate structures of his friend’s larynx, only to stop after a few seconds. 

  His vision was now more than a little hazy and he knew he would not be able to make it through the procedure. Disappointed in himself and outraged that his friend would be forced to continue to live in his forced silence he nevertheless put his hands down and sighed. Physically his friend was fine, his chest wound having healed nearly completely, thanks both to Anders’s skill and his magic. They both were covered in minor scratches and bruises otherwise but they were, on the whole, going to be alright.

  His friend could wait- He’d been like this for weeks now (if not longer) and they’d gotten along well enough then. It was just…

  He shook his head and, eyes dragging closed, settled in beside his still unconscious friend. In the morning, he promised himself and his friend. In the morning he would regain some of his magic, and he could help him.

  Shivering slightly he moved closer to his friend and then frowned, watching as, in his sleep, his friend shook as well, tremors wracking his body. This far beneath the waves, without the benefit of sunlight, it was terribly cold and all the blood loss could not have helped either. They had no stolen blankets or seaweed with them and it was without another thought that Anders wrapped his arms around his friend and pulled him closer, trying to share what meager body heat he had to offer. 

  He closed his eyes and he was, for a moment, back with his gam, a small child squished between the warmth and scales of his parents, letting the waves of the sea and their voices rock him to sleep. Back before everything that had happened, back when he had had a home and family and a life. He regretted nothing of course, but holding another mer affected him in a strange way, making him ache for things that he had not let himself feel in a long time. 

  Briefly he opened his eyes and looked to see that the mer had stopped shivering and that his friend had turned to him, attempting to curl himself around him and undoubtedly leech the warmth from his body.

  It made Anders smile, despite the pain, the terror, and the utter exhaustion he was now feeling from the past few hours. And then, as he felt something warm uncurl in his stomach, he felt his smile falter. 

  Instead of thinking on what he was feeling he closed his eyes and let himself drift off into sleep, wrapped securely around his friend, dreaming.

  
  


  When Fenris awoke it was to pain, but not nearly as much as he had passed out to. Trying to remain as calm as possible he began to assess the damage his body had sustained, hands running over his arms and belly before moving up to his chest, dreading what he might find there. 

  He expected exposed, ragged flesh, or at least scar tissue, but was puzzled when all his found were the ridges of his markings. 

  Blinking he sat up in order to look down at himself- It was almost completely dark this far beneath the waves and even his eyes were having trouble focusing in the inky blackness. But as he looked down at himself he felt his mouth drop open in shock at the healing that had somehow occurred. 

  He knew that Anders had done so, had awoken briefly to see him doing so, and could not help but remain in awe of his skill. A part of him should have been angry that Anders had used magic on him without his permission but it faded just as quickly as it had come- He would have died, he knew this, deep in his gut, had his companion not intervened. 

  Blinking he looked around, wondering where the man had gone. Fenris had no idea where they were, or what had happened to their pursuers or who even they had been and it suddenly made him uneasy to know so little. 

  Grimacing at sore muscles and bruised limbs he nevertheless rose and gingerly made his way to the mouth of the little cave that Anders had, apparently, carried him to, peering out and then swallowing heavily at the blackness that greeted him.

  In the distance he thought he could see a glimmer of- Something and quickly pressed himself back against the walls of the cave, watching and waiting to see what it would do.

  It grew closer and closer until finally Fenris could make out the dim glow of red scales and long yellow hair floating about the form and sighed.

_ Anders _ . 

  He moved away from the rough wall of the cave and gave the other mer a small smile when finally he looked up and saw that he was awake. 

  “Oh- Friend-” Anders hurried the last few paces to the mouth of the cave when he realized that the other man was awake only to slow and then briefly look away from him. “I- Uh, sorry, I didn’t know when you’d be away and we need food so…”

  Fenris inclined his head and made a hand gesture indicating that he was fine, but still Anders seemed tense and… Almost evasive? 

  The other mer moved past him, dragging a small amount of fish, and moved to the back of the cave, leaving Fenris to stand alone at the mouth of it and wonder at his friend’s mood. He wasn’t exactly happy either, all things considered, but he knew there was something else wrong. 

  Frowning he turned around, trying to consider how best to talk to the other man. They had developed some hand gestures and signs over the time that they had been together, and while it had helped there were still times that Fenris found himself coming up short. His hands twitched as he tried to determine how best to ask what he needed and after a few moments he gave up, tapping Anders on the shoulder and, once the man had finally turned to him, giving him an opened arm gesture as if to ask ‘What?’

  Anders frowned, briefly considering pretending that he did not understand what Fenris was trying to ask, wishing to avoid the conversation that he knew would follow. But he knew he could never do that- and so finally he sighed and said, “Friend, there is… Something I need to talk to you about.”

  Fenris’ hands dropped as he looked at the other man expectantly, trust in his face. 

  Would that change, Anders wondered, if he got his voice back? (If his theory was even correct, that was.) Finally able to speak, would he leave him or would Anders discover that he did not like the other mer quite so much? He had been alone for so long now, and to possibly lose the first friend he had made in- He could not even remember how long. 

  “It’s about your voice, er, rather, the lack thereof.” 

  He watched his friend still and his eyes go wide. His hands twitched, in that way they did when he became frustrated with trying to communicate or wanted Anders desperately to understand something he didn’t seem capable of, and the mage swallowed heavily. 

  “I… It may take me a minute to explain- I- I’m not even sure I entirely understand what I’ve found myself but I- Well, here-” He took a deep breath and watched as his friend seemed to center himself, pulling that veneer of calm over himself that Anders had witnessed so many times before. 

  “I… As I was healing you I noticed some- Some strange magic on you. Or rather… In you. Along your markings most predominantly- And no,” he started when Fenris gave him a look, “I still haven’t the slightest clue as to how you… Did that thing, the turning shapeless or- Whatever thing back there, but I  _ did  _ discover that someone had cast a spell on your throat. The part of it you need to speak or- Or make any noise.

  “It’s a paralysis spell, or at least that’s the best I could make of it. My magical training has not exactly been…” He shrugged and looked away briefly, in shame. “But I think I could remove it. It would take some time but I… It seems possible I could give you your voice back, if you so wished.”

  If he so wished- As if his friend would chose anything else. 

  And yet still Fenris remained, looking at him and frowning as if in consideration, in that thoughtful way he always acted. Finally he nodded and slowly approached Anders, obviously nervous but determined. 

  “I- You may want to lie down. This also… May hurt. I’ve never done something like this before and I-” He was stopped in his babbling by Fenris putting a hand on his shoulder and looking at him, a small smile on his face. 

_ I trust you _ , Fenris wanted to say, and was heartened by the fact that he would be able to- Just as soon as Anders was done. 

  The other man took a deep breath and then nodded, laughing a little shakily. “Yes, yes, you’re right, of course, you always are.” 

  Fenris sat and the laid down, trying to remain as patient as possible while Anders situated himself at his side and began to mumble something to himself. Briefly he clenched his eyes shut and then opened them again, his heart now beating madly in his chest. He didn’t even know what his voice sounded like- Would it be rusty, long disused? Or strange and alien sounding? And dammit, he hadn’t even thought of the first words he would say- Surely it should be something good like-

  “Relax,” there was Anders, hands glowing softly with magic, smiling at him slightly. “I think we both just need to… Relax.” 

  Fenris nodded and closed his eyes for good this time, deciding it would be for the best. Besides, he could feel everything Anders was doing, the magic moving over his chest and to his throat pulling at his tattoos. Suddenly he felt his throat constrict and he threw his head back, trying to resist the urge to claw at it, the choking sensation beginning to overwhelm him. Over him he could hear Anders cursing and he clenched his fists, trying to relax despite the magic that had snaked itself around his windpipe and now felt as though it were crushing him. 

  When he opened his eyes everything was hazy and he could feel the pressure from his throat beginning to build in his head, the pounding rattling throughout his skull. He closed his eyes tightly as if he could escape it and grit his teeth, the muscles and tendons of his throat standing out starkly in his effort. 

  Nothing, in the short amount of life that he had experienced or could remember, had come without pain. But though he had become more and more used to this, he was never able to fully detach himself from it. 

  A part of him thought to beg the mage to stop, to leave it be, that it wasn’t worth it, but when he opened his eyes it was to the sight of Anders leaning over him, a look of intent concentration on his face, his hands and fingers moving delicately over him, seemingly unaware of anything outside of the patient in front of him.

  And then, just as suddenly, the pressure relieved itself, the pounding stopped, and Fenris felt air rush through his lungs, freer than he could remember it before. He took a deep breath, feeling his lungs expand and his chest move to make room. 

  “Anders,” he managed, throat raw and aching, “ _ Anders _ .”


	9. A Friend

  For a man who had not been able to speak for weeks, if not longer, Fenris had miraculously little to say. There were questions, of course, ones that Anders was only too happy to answer, both because he cared for his friend and because, well, Great Sea Mother  _ that voice _ . But just as often as before Anders would dominate the conversation or, when he had nothing else to say, silence would fall over them.

  They were sitting on the edge of the cave, staring out into the black nothingness of the trench they had found themselves in. By now they were both fully healed and likely well enough to travel back closer to the surface, but for reasons Anders could not quite understand he was hesitant to leave. 

  “Who were those people? The ones who… With the harpoon?” Fenris spoke, disturbing the quiet around them and shifted slightly, still not quite used to speaking and hearing his own voice. It was not as unpleasant sounding as he feared it might be, but it was definitely… Strange.

  “Hunters,” Anders replied. He’d refrained from asking too many questions about Fenris, respecting the fact that the man obviously wished for his privacy but he had to admit that he was curious. There was so little that Fenris seemed to know and so many of the questions he asked were ones that no mer would feel the need to ask. This was among them. “All mer are taught to fear them from a young age. Did you not… Did your parents not..?”

  It was the first time he had directly asked Fenris about his past. It would be easy enough for Fenris to brush him off and he was half expecting it, would even have expected it, when the other man cleared his throat and looked over at him. 

  “I… I do not know. I do not remember… My parents. Or family- If I have ever been in possession of either.”

  “You don’t… Remember?” Anders stared at him, unsure of how to react. “You mean you- I don’t understand.”

  “I do not either,” Fenris replied, mouth turned upwards in a grimace. “I remember… Very little, in fact. My memory seems… Almost stolen from me.”

  “What exactly do you remember friend?” Though he knew his name now ( _ Fenris- A good, solid name. It suited him well _ ) Anders still referred to him that way out of habit.

  “...I remember waking up and then you finding me.”

  “...And?” Anders watched incredulously as the other mer ducked his head, seemed to curl up on himself. 

  “That… Would appear to be extent of my memories.”

  “Great Sea Mother,” Anders whispered, horrified. “No wonder you… When I first met you you seemed so- Strange. Er, that is, you couldn’t hunt or seem to swim right. But if you really are missing your memories…”

  He looked away from his friend, hands clenching. “I am sorry. I am so sorry.”

  “I will learn to live with it,” Fenris replied, unable to help but think,  _ And I have you, don’t I? _

__ There had been this strange tension between them since he had regained his voice that he’d noticed. Anders seemed more careful around him, seemed to babble less though Fenris had not once complained. During the night when they slept together, (entwined to try and keep warm) Anders seemed to clutch him tightly, whining if Fenris tried to pull away or even to adjust their positions. 

  It worried him, that something was wrong and he did not know what it was. That he might have done something to offend the only friend he could now remember, the person who had taken him in and, in turn, cared for him. 

  Wishing to pull himself away he turned to Anders and asked, “Will we leave, in the next few days? I feel strong enough to travel, if you do.”

  Anders looked out into the inky darkness, face scrunched up in thought before his expression relaxed and he nodded. “I… Would like that. To see the sun again…” He sighed wistfully and smiled, “Besides, I’m getting awfully pale without any sun to help.”

  “Right- As if you were not before,” Fenris snorted and moved, using his hips to move up in order to float towards the back of the cave. Using his tail and fins now came second nature to him, though still he did not consider his movements as graceful as his companion’s.

  Anders chuckled, though he did not move, instead continuing to sit and stare, when he was suddenly struck by the need to say something. 

  “Friend, I-” He turned to look at the other mer who had stopped and was staring at him, eyes shining in the darkness. “I want… To help you find your family- If… If you have any.”

  Fenris blinked and stared at him before slowly replying, “Thank you- But I… I don’t know…” There was this sense within him, something deep and instinctual, that he had left people behind. But he had literally no idea who they might be, and even if Anders wanted to help Fenris wasn’t sure what information he could give him. “...I have no memory to go on.”

  “Well,” Anders said, frowning, “That’s… I mean, we’ll figure it out. Or maybe- Maybe you’ll dream and remember something. When it happens I’ll be ready to help you.”

  His friend watched him for a long moment and then finally nodded. “...Thank you. That is… You have been very generous with me. I-” He made this funny face that Anders was not quite sure how to interpret and his voice dropped even lower. “I was very lucky to come across you, wasn’t I?”

  “Well of course,” Anders replied, trying to replace the sudden silence in the cavern with his voice, falsely cheery. “Anyone would be lucky to stumble across me.”

  “So they would,” Fenris replied with a chuckle. 

  They fell into silence again after that, until finally Anders moved back to join Fenris towards the back of the cave. What little sunlight was quickly disappearing and he was eager to sleep.

  
  


  “She is a witch! And she knows where your son is!” The king and his wife looked up in shock as a man burst into the throne room, dragging a struggling woman in a black cloak behind him. She was hissing and snarling, screaming obscenities at the man until finally he pushed her in front of the reagents who were still sitting in their chairs, shocked.

  Finally the king seemed to recover himself and, practically vibrating with anger, turned to the two. 

  “What is the meaning of this? Speak plainly, for I have little patience for such things.”

  “Your Majesty,” the woman spoke up, panting slightly, her black hair falling into her face. Her hands had been bound in front of her with strange looking metal cuffs and every time she flexed they glowed faintly. “This wild man dragged me from my home- Where I was doing nothing- And-”

  “Out,” the king ordered, gesturing to his advisors and the other people assembled at his court. “Except for you two,” he pinned his gaze on the woman, who still appeared to be resisting her bindings, and the man who had brought her in. 

  “Your Majesty-” The woman’s words were cut off as the king turned his gaze on her and she grew silent. Still, this wasn’t the worst predicament she had ever found herself in, though she’d be lying if she tried to say that she wasn’t sweating just a little. 

  The king, much to her despair, looked to the asshole who had brought her in, chin steepled on his fingers. “Go. On.”

  It had been weeks since his son had disappeared and so far no reasonable explanation had presented itself. There had been no body either and until that day- And Maker, he prayed he never saw that day- his son was alive as far as he was concerned. 

  Many had come forward claiming to have information, obviously seeking the king’s favor. Some even sounded truthful. But nothing had come of any of it- It was as if his son, upon leaving the castle, had simply ceased to exist. 

  And now this- The king did not truly believe these people would bring him any useful information, but he had to try. He could not give up.

  “This is the witch that took your son and- And did away with him,” the man had begun rattling on about the evils of apostasy and internally the king sighed. This woman was, perhaps, a witch, but there was so actual law against magic. And even if she was one it did not necessarily follow that she had anything to do with his son’s disappearance. His son had been as wary of magic as most people were and it was difficult for the king to believe his son would have been involved with the woman in any capacity.

  “What is your proof?” The king’s voice was tired when he asked, fatigued from long, sleepless nights and the constant search for his son. “Do you have a shred of evidence? Anything at all to convince me that your words are more than the fantastical ramblings of a madman?” Maker he really was tired- he usually just banished people from his court when he was done with them.

  “This.” The man pulled something small and shiny out of his pocket and moved to stand before the king, triumphant. 

  The king opened his hand and into it was dropped a ring, a small, golden band with familiar words inscribed on them.  _ To Serve. To Protect. To Rule.  _

__ “Love, it’s-” His wife had moved to see the ring and gasped as she read it. “Fenris- It’s Fenris’- It-”

  The king held his hand up and the queen quieted, though she practically vibrated with anxiety next to him. 

  “How did you come upon this?”

  “The witch tried to sell it to me, probably thinking I wouldn’t bother looking at it- But of course I recognized the house words immediately.”

  “Didn’t think you knew how to read, more like,” the woman muttered, scowling up at the man. 

  “You are… A merchant?” The king asked incredulously. A part of him wanted to take the woman and interrogate her immediately but another part of him was failing to understand how this had all come together.

  “Merchant. Occasional knight for hire. Also real good at restraining witches.” The man gave the king a grin, entirely at odds with the grim reality of the situation. 

  “Who-” The king shook his head. He didn’t care about the man- He only cared about the witch. “Speak with my majordomo and he will settle this debt.”

  The man opened his mouth as if to speak his name but then promptly shut it. The king was dismissing him and he was not, by any account, a patient man.  

  There was silence then as the mysterious man left and the witch was left, arms still bound and magic temporarily disabled, before the monarchs sitting before her. Her eyes moved nervously between the king and then to the queen who was looking at her was gaze that she… Really did not like.

  “What is your name?” The king’s voice was soft but the undercurrent was deadly.

  The witch before them took a deep breath and, realizing that she had no choice but to play along replied, “Morrigan.”

  “Do you have a family name Morrigan?”

  “No.” She raised her chin- it was the least she could do in the situation.

  “Start from the beginning. And I suggest you tell the truth the first time- For your sake, more than mine.”

  Morrigan swallowed uneasily and flexed her hands, trying to call even a scrap of magic to form between her fingers. They remained barren and, though it burned her pride, she finally dipped her head after a long moment and began to speak.

  
  


  He dreamt that night, of the cold and water, of predatory eyes and teeth. There was warmth beside him and Fenris clung to it. Wisps of memories floated in and out of his vision, but none stayed long enough for him to grasp onto them. They teased him, however, and when he awoke suddenly in pitch blackness he almost found himself physically reaching for them.

  “Friend?” his bed partner was grumbling slightly at having been woken up but he raised his head anyway, drowsy concern evident in his voice. 

  “I am fine,” Fenris returned, settling back onto the cold floor of the cave. He was not, but he did not wish to burden his friend anymore than he already had.

  “Hm,” Anders replied, not believing him. But he was also terribly tired and finding it difficult to remain conscious. 

  “I… Thank you, again, Anders, you… Have my gratitude.”

  Anders blinked sleepily and then opened his eyes, though he saw only blackness. There was something wrong in Fenris’ voice but he was not entirely sure what. Slowly he sat up, grimacing at the feel of his spines dragging over the floor and looked down to where he approximated his friend was.

  “You alright?” His voice was soft, trying to invite conversation.

  “Yes, I just…” Anders felt the other man clasp his hand and then, suddenly, his stomach was doing rather strange things. “I-”

  Anders felt himself being pulled down and then, suddenly he found himself face to face with his friend. He couldn’t see exactly, but he could feel the warm puff of Fenris’ breath on his face, knew that his lips hovered inches from his. 

  “Fenris,” he said quietly, unsure as to what the other man wanted. “I-”

  “Please,” the other man man said, and then he was moving against him and pressing his lips against Anders’.


	10. The Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I'm sure you can all tell, I love writing smut. Looking up "mermaid sex positions" and "mermaid sexual anatomy" on google on the other hand, I do not.  
> Still, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Emile gave me advice about mermaid sex that I (kind of) used and I hope it's not terribly confusing to read/understand.
> 
> Also, as for the end of this chapter... Ya'll knew this was coming. >:)

  “Fenris,” the other man gasped against his mouth, “I-” Fenris felt his arms wrap around him and pull him closer, his blunt nails lightly scraping along his back. He arched his back, feeling the fingers as they trailed down his sides, sighing. Anders changed direction, dragging his finger against one of Fenris’ spines only for it stiffen. 

  “D-Don’t,” he said, pulling away. It seemed like something he was supposed to enjoy but for reasons that were still unclear to him it felt… Wrong. 

  “Ah, of course, sorry,” Anders murmured beneath him, pulling his hand away. “Are there any other things I shouldn’t..?”

  “You are fine, I simply-” How could he explain it? He couldn’t, but he trusted that if he asked Anders that the man would not push. “...I would prefer you not to.”

  For a few moments the other man simply watched him and then nodded, cupping Fenris’ cheek in his hand and smiling up at him. “Alright, just- Tell me if I overstep again, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” he breathed in response, “yeah.” 

  There was a moment of quiet, even awkward silence as both men look at each other before finally Anders broke it, giving a breathless little chuckle and leaning up to kiss Fenris again.

  “Hey, I can still kiss you right?” His eyes seemed alight with mischief and while it made Fenris feel dumb to not get the joke he nevertheless returned the smile. 

  “I would be… Greatly obliged if you would.”

  “‘Greatly obliged,’” Anders replied, voice mock-deep in an impression of his friend before he returned to his normal tone, “Yes, I think I can… Oblige you.”

  He did not wait again to kiss Fenris, his lips overly eager and perhaps even a little sloppy. If the other mer cared or even noticed he didn’t say anything, instead returning his kisses with just as much affection and just as little skill. 

  Unbidden Anders wrapped his tail around Fenris,’ sighing and kissing along his jaw and neck. He groaned, tangling his hands in Aners’ hair, feeling the smooth silk of it against his palm. Suddenly Fenris moved, flipping onto to his back and pulling Anders on top on him, chuckling as Anders’ hair fell around him like a thick, golden curtain. 

  It was… Reminiscent of something. He didn’t know what, but it made him feel safe and warm, and when he leaned up to kiss Anders again it was slow and gentle.

  He… Had no memory of anyone else. It didn’t matter much to him, as he trusted his instincts to guide him, but still he wanted to savor everything. The smell of Anders and the feeling of his skin beneath his tongue- The smoothness of his scales as they curved around his hips. His hands had begun to go lower, questing for… Well, he was sure he would know when he found it. Suddenly Anders stopped him with a small smile. 

  “No mating dance beforehand? Do I seem that easy?” 

  “M-Mating dance?” Alright, so maybe his instincts wouldn’t be enough. He could feel his cheeks burning bright red, traveling up to his ears until his whole face felt as though it were in flames.

  Anders cocked his head to the side, eyes widening slightly as he asked, “Yes, you know, that thing that all of us are supposed to do? I mean- We really don’t have to- It’s just a silly thing, really…” He’d been joking, but he was surprised still that Fenris didn’t know what he was talking about. His memory, Anders reminded himself, it was his memory. Still…

  “I… I would not be opposed…” Fenris knew that he ought to figure out what this mating dance was before agreeing to do it, but if it was for Anders, well… “You may just, ah, have to guide me.”

  “Alright, I don’t think that will be so terrible- Here,” Anders replied with a chuckle, grasping Fenris’ hand and half-pulling, half-leading the other man up and towards the mouth of the cave. “We’ll want a bit of space for this- Just follow my movements.”

  Though he was wary and nervous Fenris did as he was asked, floating a few feet behind Anders as they moved into the open water. It was noticeably cooler away from the cave and he shivered slightly, only to be distracted as Anders pulled away from him and began to move and undulate his body before him.

  It might have seemed odd, but Fenris had never truly taken the time to watch Anders swim- He was an attractive man, he had recognized that much, but spread out before him, twisting and coiling his tail, he was… Mesmerizing.

  Anders knew that Fenris was watching him, could see the hunger in his eyes and found himself unable to resist a smirk. It felt… Good, and he swore he could almost feel those hands on him as Fenris’ eyes watched him, rapt. With a sigh then he closed his eyes and moved onto his back in the water before bending backwards, stretching out his torso in a view that he knew to be… Flattering.

  With a chuckle he completed the turn, flipping backwards, his heavy tail following him as he completed the circle in one smooth movement.

  He always felt free when he was swimming- Something about the way that the water buoyed him up, and the way he could cut through it with just a snap of his tail. It was intoxicating, the freedom of movement he was allowed, to bend and twist as he pleased, and it was never better than when he danced like this. 

  But dances were always so much better when one had a partner and so with his next movement he swam towards Fenris, grasping his hands and pulling him out into the water with him.

  “I- Do not know if I can-” the other man was stuttering, and it shouldn’t have been attractive, but somehow his voice and his shyness were both terribly endearing.

  “Let me guide you- Really, the dance is easy enough.” Or at least, if they were compatible it would be. If not it would be awkward and unflattering but Anders had a good feeling about how they would turn out. “Now,” he said, letting his voice drop lower, “Trust me, and follow my movements.”

  Fenris did as he was told, beginning by just swimming beside Anders, mirroring his movements. It was easy enough and he could feel himself relaxing, his confidence bolstered by the way that Anders was smiling at him. 

  “And now… I am going to twist one way and you are going to twist the opposite, alright?” Fenris seemed to frown at that but finally he nodded.

  He was a bit hesitant at first but he finally picked up on the movements as the two mer began to spiral around each other, beginning to compliment rather than exactly mirror each other. Though it was all rather strange and new to Fenris, it was also exhilarating, especially as Anders began to pick up speed and they began to ascend through the water. 

  “And for the next step” he said, sounding slightly breathless, “You will… Grasp me and we will wind our tails together- We will swim as one, become one.”

  Suddenly it struck Fenris as to how terribly serious this was- Anders’ face and tone remained light, but his actual words… The elf swallowed, unsure. But then he closed his eyes and reached out, feeling Anders’ take his hands and he felt alright. 

  He felt even better when Anders was finally pressed against him, their tails entwining around each other. Briefly Fenris looked down, mouth falling open slightly at the beauty before him, the deep red and blue scales complimenting each other so perfectly. 

  When he looked back up at Anders it was to a soft smile and softer eyes. The man had the worst look of adoration on his face, but rather than it making him feel uncomfortable it made Fenris feel warm. 

  He wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a part of the mating dance or not but he wanted to kiss Anders then, badly, and so he leaned up, pressing his lips against the other man’s. Anders responded with a groan, opening his mouth to Fenris and squeezing him tighter against his body. Between them they continued to move and swim, their hips undulating against each other and suddenly Fenris found himself short of breath.

  They had continued to move closer and closer to the surface, and the rapid ascension, along with the feeling of the other mer, was making Fenris feel light-headed and wonderful. His fingers tightened around Anders’ arm and he buried his face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply and letting it ground him.

  Suddenly, just as they were about to hit the surface of the water, Anders turned them and then slowed the pace of his swimming so that they began to drift just a few feet below where the waves churned above them. Fenris blinked, looking past Anders’ shoulder through the water and to sky above where clouds ambled along lazily.

  There was quiet between them then, uninterrupted for a few minutes. Fenris took the chance to bury his face in Anders’ chest again, sighing quietly, content to remain there until the other mer spoke up again.

  “Well,” Anders said, sound a little out of breath himself, “I would say that that was a successful dance.” His eyes were shining, alit with mirth and something else that made Fenris swallow heavily.

  “What happens now?” He asked.

  “Now…” Anders’ smile turned into a smirk and he continued, “We get to the mating part of this.”

  He should have rolled his eyes or cringed and groaned- but instead he just swallowed again. The fact that Anders’ thrust against him again, as if to punctuate his words, likely did not help.

  “Wait- Here? In the open..?”

  Anders cocked his head to the side, wondering at his friend’s hesitance. Still he was willing to humor Fenris, and more than that if he would let him.

  “We can return to the cave if you wish- Here, take my hand.” 

  They separated then and though Fenris frowned at the lack of contact he nevertheless took the other mer’s hand and began to trail after him. The descent was not nearly as exhilarating as their journey to the top had been but it was… Comfortable. For all of the roiling tension that Fenris was feeling in his gut now he knew that he had Anders and that he could trust him.

  The cold of the deeper water wrapped around the both of them the lower they went and Anders instinctively moved closer to his friend. Well, after their dance he supposed that they were now more than that. He swallowed and looked to Fenris, thinking briefly on how lucky he had been to find someone like him. There had been another, once, gone far too soon, and Anders had not thought he would ever find someone like them again.

  Fenris was… Not like Karl. But Anders loved him all the same, and that was what mattered.

  Entering the cave this time felt entirely different. Instead of Anders dragging Fenris’ unconscious body with him they held hands, each of them whole and healthy. There was tension, of course, but instead of shying from it they both embraced it.

  This time Fenris took the lead, dragging Anders behind him as he swam deeper into the cave, throwing a tentative smile behind him as he smiled at his friend. When they were deep within the cave, the mouth of it a dim light in the distance, he stopped and then pulled Anders towards him.

  They kissed, slowly, moving against each other as they had during their dance. Anders could not resist wrapping his tail around the other mer, pulling him closer.

  “You glow, you know that?” He murmured, laving his tongue over one of the raised markings. “Your eyes and your… Markings.” They tasted of magic but more importantly they tasted like Fenris, and Anders sighed softly as he continued to kiss over his collarbone and shoulder.

  “Hmm,” Fenris replied, rather distracted by the way that Anders was alternately pulling at and licking one of his nipples. “Is that so?”

  “Yes, it's rather… Pretty.”

  Fenris almost snorted but instead just smiled down at Anders. Let him think whatever odd thoughts he wanted to.

  He groaned as Anders took the chance to lightly bite down on one of his nipples, looking up at him and giving him a look of mischief. Anders moved his hands over his hips then, alternately squeezing them and running his hands over the smooth scales there. 

  And then his hand was moving, pressing down cleverly and Fenris gasped as he felt himself open and grow hard.

  Blinking he looked down, both aroused and slightly confused. Something about it seemed odd, but he could not exactly determine what. But when Anders palmed his cock, still giving him that look from before, he found it terribly hard to care.

  Anders chuckled, watching the other mer’s face as he began to stroke him. His eyes would flutter shut as he groaned and bucked against his hand, only to snap open again.

  “What,” he managed to finally gasp between his moans, “about you?” 

  Anders blinked and then gave him a slightly crooked smile in return. 

  “Here, wait a second…” He pulled away from Fenris, who watched him avidly as he pressed down and finally extruded his own cock. “Good?”

  “Oh yes,” Fenris replied, his eyes not having moved, “Very.”

  This time it was Anders’ turn to feel shy, a rather foreign emotion but one he could not help when his partner was staring so intently at him. 

  Finally they moved together again, synchronized as their dance had been. But this time when they moved against each other it was so much more. Fenris gasped and then groaned, feeling the slide of Anders’ cock against his. The friction sent chills down his spine and he wrapped his arms around the other mer, pulling him closer and grunting as he thrust against him again. 

  He gave very little thought to technique, too overwhelmed by what he was feeling, only to be interrupted by Anders’ pushing at his shoulder. Briefly he frowned but did as the other man wished, watching as he brought his hand down between their bodies. Anders wrapped his hand around Fenris’ cock and, after giving the elf a rather suggestive look, Fenris did the same for him. 

  They both began to stroke each other then, their tails still entwined and keeping them pressed against each other. Every movement of his hand, every clever twist of his fingers had Fenris groaning and panting, and hoping that he was making Anders feel nearly as good as he was. 

  He kissed the other man, their tongues tangling together, and almost smiled when he picked up his pace and Anders’ breath hitched in his throat. Suddenly Anders’ hand tightened around him, speeding up dangerously, and before he could warn the other mer he felt his climax over taking him. 

  It was powerful and all consuming, the heat racing up his legs to pool low in his belly. His back arched and he groaned as he felt it build and build, until it was all he could think of.

  But instead of his mind going blank it began to fill with things- Memories of people, people who looked like him, who smiled at him and whispered things to him. Memories of Anders from… Before they had met, somehow. Memories of a woman with golden eyes and dark hair and memories of himself- A face that was his and yet was not, a memory of him looking in a mirror and…

  “Fenris?  _ Fenris _ ?” Anders had pulled away from him and was now grasping his shoulders, shaking the elf slightly and looking at him with a worried expression. “Calm down, are you okay?”

  Anders watched as his partner shook his head, seeming to come out of the trance he had temporarily been under, only for Fenris to look at him with an expression of confusion and then… Fear?

  “I- I-” His mouth opened and closed as he tried to express what it was that he was feeling. “I remember… I remember everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt me at laurpas.tumblr.com


	11. Separation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've come to the point in the story where I'm beginning to see an ending to all of this and, unfortunately, things are probably going to get worse before they get better (if they get better.) Tags will be updated of course as things happen- Also, while I want this to have a happy ending, I can't make any promises yet that that will happen.
> 
> A gam refers to a school of whales, so for the porpoise (heh) of this story, I've also used it to refer to a group of mers, such as Anders' family or gam.

  Anders remained where he was, half-hard and confused. A part of him wanted to be happy for Fenris, to congratulate his friend, just to  _ go  _ to him, but instead he stayed where he was. It was clear that, whatever Fenris was remembering, it was not good and while he wished to comfort him the other man seemed to have suddenly pulled in on him, putting several feet of space between the two of them. It felt wrong, like a finger running the wrong way over his spines, to be apart from his mate when they were so clearly distressed but he had come to learn that Fenris greatly valued his space.

  “What do you remember?” His voice was quiet, struggling to remain neutral. Internally he had begun to panic, wondering if something he had done had caused this. They had danced together- But now it felt as though they could not have been further apart. 

  “This is… Not right.  _ I  _ am not right.” Fenris had begun to back further and further away, arms wrapped protectively around his torso. He was staring down at his tail, features twisted in a grimace of fear, and Anders could feel his spines straighten in anxious confusion. 

  “What is not right? Please-”  _ Please talk to me, please say something to make this make sense- Please stop moving away from me, please- _

__ “I need… To go-” Without further explanation he shot past Anders, pumping his legs and swimming away as fast as he could. His mind was swarmed with images, some of them beginning to fade and slip away but others remaining startlingly clear. Memories of him aboard a ship, of him dancing on- On  _ legs _ . Memories of his home and family, of the woman who had done this to him. 

_ Witch _ . The  _ witch  _ who had done this to him.

  Behind him he could hear Anders shouting but he just ducked his head down and swam harder, beginning to ascend as the two of them had done just hours before. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he needed to be away from the thoughts in his head and somehow moving like made it better. Occasionally he would twist or change direction and a new memory would present itself and he could feel the ache in his chest and the wrongness in his bones again, that much more acutely. 

  It felt as though he swam for hours, and by the time he slowed and began to drift rather than truly swim his muscles were in agony. His heart, too, was a mess of pain and confusion, and yes, regret too for leaving Anders behind so hastily. 

  He could still hear the voice of his friend in his mind, calling to him, the way it had turned desperate as it became clear that Fenris would not answer to it. He knew that he had hurt Anders deeply but he had not been able to stop himself- He’d needed to run, somewhere far away, to try and escape the emotions and memories that had buffeted him.

  Blearily he looked around him, but this far out into the open ocean there was no way of knowing where he was. Everything tended to look the same here- Great, rolling expanses of sandy bottom interrupted only by the occasional trench or rock formation. Though he knew he should have been afraid at the prospect of being lost he could not find it in himself. For now all he wished was to be lost beneath the waves, not feeling any of the terrible emotions that wracked him.

  With a worn sigh he began to drift lower and lower, approaching the ocean floor. He would find a place to rest and then… He did not know what he would do after that. For now he wished only to live in the moment- To look to the future was far too depressing, and the past, was, by far, too painful. 

  He was hungry and cold too, but these were things he could ignore. Besides, if his memories were anything to go by he had suffered far worse in the past. Spotting a small cropping of rocks he approached it hesitantly, suddenly remembering all of the other predators that lurked under the waves. Hesitantly he swam around the formation, looking for any danger. When he saw none he decided that this would be a good place to rest for the night- though he wished for a cave, as he shared with his friend, but knew he was unlikely to find one.

  At the thought of Anders his heart clenched painfully and he could not help but hang his head in shame. He had run away, like a coward, and after sharing such an incredible experience with him. After all that Anders had done for him. Despite the friendship they had shared. 

  As he moved to settle against one of the rocks he curled up, trying to make himself as small as possible and to conserve body heat, know that the water around him would only grow colder as night dawned.

  Now that he knew he winced when he looked down at his scales- No longer did they appear beautiful, but were instead disfiguring, a cancerous growth on him. The witch, he remembered her now, had tainted his body with magic, perhaps permanently. The spines on his back scraped against the rough rock and suddenly he felt ill. The urge to claw at his skin suddenly overwhelmed him but he fought against it, fisting his hands and digging his nails into the tender palms of his hands, not stopping until he saw blood.

  He shuddered and drew in a deep breath. Sleep. He needed to sleep now- He was beyond exhausted, and he hoped that by doing so he might escape some of the emotions that plagued him.

  It should have been difficult, but in truth it was very easy for him to fall asleep. He was exhausted after all, both physically and mentally. Still, his sleep was anything but restful. 

  
  


  He’d tried to catch Fenris but the other mer was simply too fast- For all that Fenris seemed to have not been able to swim just weeks ago now he outswam Anders. 

  Anders had tried shouting as well, hoping that Fenris would hear him and, if not turn around, that he would at least  _ pause _ . But instead the man just kept swimming, apparently deaf to Anders’ cries or his panic.

  For hours Anders tried swimming after the other mer, confused and heartsick and terrified, even as he slowly lost sight of him. He did not know what memories Fenris had unearthed, but dammit, if they were so terrible he should not have had to face them alone. They had- He took a deep breath only to feel his chest grow tighter. Swearing he shook his head, trying to remind himself that Fenris was the one that was hurting, that he was the one who needed help.

  But it was so difficult, fighting against the weight of the water, struggling and clawing his way through it, only for Fenris to grow smaller and smaller in his vision. His throat was raw from the exertion and the yelling, but still he opened it to try and yell for Fenris again.

  Instead a sob tried to escape his throat and he ducked his head, his swimming becoming halting. Did he not understand how easy it was to become lost beneath the waves? That it was not so simple for him to return to Anders when he needed to? That he should not have run from him from in the first place?

  The dance had tied them together though, Anders was slowly realizing, Fenris had clearly not understood that. It was Anders’ fault, of course- he knew he should have explained it properly before engaging in it with Fenris, but he had just been so excited and so blinded by hope and his affection for the other man.

  Affection- What a paltry word for what he felt.

  His eyes itched and he swallowed heavily, feeling it catch in his throat. He knew, eventually, that he would have to give into the grief. Long ago he had learned that, try as he might, there was no escaping it. Not forever.

 

  It had now been at least an hour since he had last been able to see Fenris and while he had continued to travel in the direction of the other mer there was no telling whether or not he was anywhere near the other man. 

  Slowly he came to a stop, wading in the water, and only vaguely scanned the water around himself. Night was falling, and unlike the mer that lurked in the deep he did not possess good night vision. 

  A sense of despair washed over him as he slowly waded further and further down, settling on the sandy bottom of the ocean floor. Around him other fish zipped by or even ambled along, ignoring the mer as he sat and then hunched up on himself, wrapping his great tail around himself protectively. 

  There was no such thing as crying when one lived in an environment entirely made of water- But there was grieving, and Anders had plenty of experience in that. Grieving after being separated from his family and his gam- After losing Karl- And now…

  He did not resist the sobs as they wracked his body, painful as they were. He wept for Fenris, for the pain he had clearly endured and that he now, whether through his own choices or not, was now forced to suffer alone. He wept for having found love again, only for it to be taken away- Not by hunters, or other predators or sickness, but by their own foolish choices. 

  Anders wept, then, at being alone again. For so long he had travelled by himself, seeking the company of other mer, of  _ anything  _ that might be friendly. He had forgotten, somehow, what it was like to be lonely. How crushing it was, day after day. How it grinded you down and made your skin itch, how  _ insignificant  _ it made you feel, to be so utterly, completely alone in the universe. 

 

  He did not know how long he wept for, only that afterwards he felt very tired and very cold. On a night like this he would have turned to Fenris, curling himself around the other man, entwining their limbs both for the warmth and the comfort of it. But Fenris was gone now, and even if he wished to return Anders was not sure that he would be able to- The ocean was vast and, especially out in the open sea, it was nearly impossible to return to places unless if one kept a small perimeter.

  The thought that Fenris might try to return to him, only to never find him again, made Anders’ heart turn cold. 

  Though he could have slept, suspected he should have, he instead turned his face upwards, to look at the waves that jostled above him. The great Sea Mother might yet hear him, and though she was cruel and capricious he nevertheless held out hope that, just as she had looked kindly upon him and given him Fenris, she might yet smile on him again.

  
  
  


  The king sat with his fingers steepled before him, staring hard at the woman who stood so proudly before him, her armor gleaming cruelly in the early morning light. Her eyes had an edge to them that he did not like, sharp and cold like ice, but he knew that he was left with few choices. She was, besides, one of the best of her kind.

  “My king,” she said, her hand fisted over her chest, “It would be a great honor to serve you in this manner. I would ask for neither riches, nor power-”

  “Please,” the king raised a hand, “None of that is necessary. I intend to compensate you- You are doing me a service, and I will fairly compensate you.”

  “Bu-”

  The king raised an eyebrow, quelling her speech almost instantly. The woman ducked her head, murmuring a respectful apology. It crawled under the king’s skin, this play at subservience. He knew that this woman’s loyalties did not lie with him, and that, were he not planning on paying her very handsomely, that she might very well turn on him.  

  Hunters like her liked to pretend that they possessed honor, but he knew better. There was no honor in making a living on poaching creatures that were, essentially, harmless. Oh, he had heard all the stories about how mermaids could bring on storms and shipwrecks or that they possessed magical powers but he knew better than to believe such fairy tales. The mer were hunted both for the thrill of it and for the large sums that their tails would fetch on the black market.

  “Now,” he said, settling back into his throne, “We have information on the mer that we wish to be brought to us. They are, by all accounts, very physically striking so it should be easy for you to identify them- Stark white hair, and dark skin. White… Tattoos that cover their entire body. Their scales are also blue- Along with their… Spines and webbing.” The words were difficult for him to speak, as disgusted as he was with thoughts of what had been done to his son. The only reason, the  _ only  _ reason, the witch still lived was that he had hope she would be able to change Fenris back to the way he was.  

  So absorbed was the king in his own thoughts that he completely missed the way that the woman’s eyes widened in recognition of the mer that he was talking about.

  “It is of critical importance that you do not harm this ma- Mer. Capture him, but any injury to him will be visited upon you threefold.”

  He knew that he was being needlessly hostile, but he could not help himself. To think that his son was out there somewhere, probably lost and scared and alone, hunted… Before his thoughts could take him to even darker places he reined himself in. 

  The woman did not appear to bat an eyelid at his threat, and he was not sure whether to be impressed or unnerved. He needed this woman to care- Needed to be assured that she would not betray him or harm his son. 

  Taking a deep breath he finally said, “Meredith Stannard, I give this most important task to you. You will have access to any resources you may need and, should you succeed, and you  _ must  _ succeed, you will be reward handsomely. You have the chance to serve this country greatly- I would suggest that you seize it.” 

  The woman, smiled, and though it did not reach her eyes the king returned it briefly out of politeness. 

  “Of course, my King. I could do nothing less.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come prompt/yell at me at laurpas.tumblr.com


	12. Of Lost People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i thought i might check back in on fenris' family, especially since they're going to become more important in the next few chapters
> 
> it occurred to me that i never bothered to give fenris' father a name- when i wrote him in i wasn't sure what i wanted to do with him and now it kind of feels too late. if i ever rewrote this i would definitely give him one, for now i'm afraid he will forever remain 'the king'

  He found his daughter in the nursery, sitting neatly in an armchair, idly thumbing through a book with downcast eyes. Next to her lay some abandoned needlework- He vaguely recalled his wife telling him that Varania hated needlework with a passion and could not help but smile slightly. It was expected for her to not only learn, but perfect that particular skill, as well as many others, so that she might someday be a suitable wife.

  Instead of practicing however, she was reading, shoulders slumped slightly. Her nursemaid sat on the other side of the room, humming softly as she worked her own stitches, but she stopped suddenly when she realized that the king had appeared in the doorway.

  “Your Majesty,” she bolted out of the chair and then into a deep curtsy, cheeks slightly flushed. Guiltily he recalled that his visits to the nursery had been more than infrequent, almost downright rare. His daughter too had moved to bow to him, her book left on the seat.

  “Peace,” he replied, holding a hand up, “I would have some time with my daughter.”

  The nursemaid nodded, and it was a sign of her skill that her surprise did not show. Instead she just bowed her head, gathered her things, and beat a hasty retreat out the door, leaving Varania and her father alone in the room.

  For a moment he took in the room, eyes idly scanning the walls. It amused him greatly to see that the same wallpaper, some wretched yellowish color, that had been there when he was a young child was still there. Much of the same furniture had remained as well, though there were a few new additions. He vaguely recalled memories of his own upbringing, allowing himself the nostalgia for just a moment.

  “Father?” Varania’s voice was tentative, small, and he knew that he had been silent for too long. It had never been his intention to make his children fear him, only to have their respect, and the fact that he had not walked that line better saddened him.

  “Varania,” he said, “Please, come sit with me.” He moved to one of the settees that guarded the rear windows, knowing that it gave a wonderful view into the gardens beyond. His daughter obeyed them, and, after they were seated, he allowed them both a few seconds to stare out onto the lovely scenery before them.

  “What book were you reading? It looked familiar.” The cover looked worn, well loved, and he knew what it was, only the memory escaped him just now.

  “Oh, just a book, I-”  Briefly Varania looked away, and he caught something like guilt flash across her face. “It’s, erm,  _ The Fisherman and the Siren _ .”

  Varania sat there, waiting to be lectured. Though she was quickly approaching the age at which she could leave the nursery she knew that she was still considered a child. Just as she knew that her reading material was anything but appropriate.

  Her father looked at her, making a humming noise, and then turned to look back out the window. “That was your brother’s favorite book as a child, you know. He always was rather obsessed with boats and the sea.”

  “I know,” was her soft reply.

  The silence stretched out then, the king unsure of how to respond to her words and Varania afraid to ask her father any of the questions that had been eating her alive since her brother had gone missing. No one would tell her anything beyond that he would be home soon but as the weeks had stretched on she had begun to believe the adults around her less and less.

  “I miss him,” she said, instead. “Ever since he… The shipwreck…” His return from his self-imposed exile had made her so hopeful, and she still remembered those few days as bright and happy. The way he had grinned at her and teased her about Old Addie and her tales. How he had promised to come visit her in the nursery. 

  She felt tears well in her eyes and internally admonished herself. She would leave the nursery and become a proper lady soon, and ladies simply Did Not Cry.

  A sniffle must have escaped despite her, however, for suddenly she felt her father’s arm around her shoulder, squeezing her tightly to him.

  “Little one,” he murmured, rubbing the side of her arm as she pressed closer to him, “Varania-”

  Ladies, apparently, did cry. Large tears began to streak down her face and though she tried to stifle it she could not completely stop her cries.

  “I- I- J-Just want him back,” she was getting dangerously close to wailing but found it harder and harder to care, “W-where did he go? No one w-will tell me anything,” she looked up at her father, large green eyes wet and pathetic looking, and the king found himself lost. They were her mother’s eyes, and also Fenris’ eyes and for the first time, in a long time, he almost thought that  _ he  _ might cry.

  “He is coming back,” he said, voice desperate. There was nothing that scared him nearly so much as a crying girl, and especially his own daughter. “He just- He-” He took a deep breath and decided that, while he could not tell her everything, she was old enough to know more than she had been told.

  “Your brother became overwhelmed and… Ran away. But he will be home soon, back with us where he belongs.”

  “He  _ left _ ?” For the first time in a long time the king felt befuddled as the words seemed only to upset his daughter more. “He l-left-” All Varania could think of was her brother’s promise to visit her, that slight smile of his, how long it had been missing. Of the thought that he had  _ willingly  _ left.

  “Shh, shh,” he was lost as his daughter finally broke down completely, curling up into his lap in a tight ball.

  “B-but…” She tried to speak more but found herself incapable. The grief had gripped tightly onto her and though it felt as if she had cried every night since the day of Fenris’ fateful shipwreck somehow her father appearing and tell her this seemed to open up a floodgate inside of her.

  The king just sat there, feeling useless as his daughter wept. She was somehow much bigger than last he had remembered her and also so tiny and fragile. And yet, he could do nothing to help her- He, who ruled lands larger than most men would ever see in their lifetimes.  _ He  _ who commanded armies and could change the course of the world if he so chose.

  He, who was only good for holding his daughter as she continued on.

  Eventually Varania tired and her tears dried up. Crying was always unpleasant and as she came back to herself she felt ridiculously embarrassed. A lady, she tried to remind herself, but even that rang false. Sitting pressed against her father she felt very small and child-like again, even younger than she was now.

  When the storm seemed to have passed the king took a deep breath but said nothing, simply listening to the sound of his daughter noisily trying to sniff and clear her throat.

  “Father, why would he leave? I thought that Fenris loved us.” For a terrible moment the king thought this would be followed by even more tears but his daughter instead just lay against him, wet cheek dampening his coat.

  “He does love us, of course. We are a family.” He cleared his throat, trying to determine how to have this conversation. Walking into the nursery he had only thought to see his daughter, to perhaps have a pleasant conversation with her to distract himself from his troubles. For all his gruff awkwardness he did love his children, after all, and they did bring him joy. He had not expected this to turn into him comforting his daughter- But, though it made him uncomfortable, he could not have imagined leaving her. “Sometimes however, adults…”

  “I hate adults,” Varania muttered and then immediately cringed, expecting her father to grow angry.

  Instead he just chuckled and replied, “I do as well, Varania. They are quite terrible.”

  He was rewarded with the sound of his daughter’s watery giggle and a part of him warmed. Still, he did not want to leave without trying to explain to her and so he picked up from before.

  “Your brother is just a man, and he was… Overwhelmed, I think. By some things. He was afraid, maybe, and sometimes when people are afraid they do things that do not make much sense. Things like leaving home.”

  “Why didn’t he tell us? If he was afraid we could have… Helped him. Somehow.”

  “It is hard to admit that you are afraid,” the king replied after a moment of rumination. “Everyone wants to be brave, and when they can’t be, well, they don’t want anyone else to know.”

  Varania seemed to think on that for a long time. She still felt confused and angry that her brother would have willingly left, but her father didn’t seem to think that Fenris was in the wrong and her father  _ was  _ probably one of the smartest men she knew. Still…

  “Was he scared of Princess Hadriana?” though she had not properly been introduced at court yet she had, of course, been told of her brother engagement by her mother. “I don’t like her. I saw her in the gardens a while ago and she…” It was hard to put into words why she felt this way. The other princess had, after all, been impeccably polite. But, like looking down into a dark body of water, Varania just  _ knew  _ that there was something lurking beneath the surface.

  “I think she’s mean.”

  “You believe so? Has she been rude?”

  “No, but her eyes…” Varania sighed and, feeling more than a little rumpled and uncomfortable, finally pushed away from her father and extricated herself from his arms.

  “I am sorry you feel that way,” he said, “Perhaps if you spent a little more time if her company you might change your mind.”

  Personally Varania thought that was a bad idea but she only inclined her head politely at the thought. Now that her outburst was truly over she was trying to be the proper young woman that she was supposed to be again.

  Silence descended again, the king watching his daughter as she sat neatly on the settee now, idly playing with a thread that had come loose from the cuff of her dress.

  “I will come visit you again,” he said, surprising both himself and his daughter who looked up at him with bright, hopeful eyes. He suddenly, guiltily, realized how lonely it must have been for her here- There were no other siblings for her to spend her days in the nursery with and lady’s maids and governesses’ did not make the best of companions for young girls. “Perhaps in a few days’ time?”  

  “That would be… Thank you Father, I would love to see you again.”

  “As would I,” impulsively he reached out to ruffle her hair, as he had done so when Fenris was a boy, only to stop when he saw her perfectly coiffed hair and instead moved to place a hand on her shoulder.

  After another few moments he rose and began to head to the door. He was a busy man, with many responsibilities, and while he might have wished to remain here with his daughter he knew that he had other responsibilities to see to.

  “Good day, daughter,” he said, briefly looking over his shoulder. Varania gave him a small smile, her eyes still red and puffy from her earlier crying and watched as her father left, his eyes unusually kind looking.

  She knew that her nursemaid would return soon and, sniffling a little, scrubbed at her eyes with her hands. Father had told her that Fenris would come home and she believed him, so truly she had no reason to cry anymore.

  Still she got up and moved to the seat she had been occupying before her father had come. The book still sat there and she picked it up, looking at the front briefly before hugging it to her chest. Her brother would be home soon.

  Soon.

  He was laying on a beach somewhere, damp, gritty sand sticking against his skin uncomfortably. There was pain everywhere in his body, but it was his chest that ached and though Fenris desperately needed oxygen he tried to resist breathing too deeply

  Next to him was another person kneeling on the ground and he watched through eyes stinging with salt as they moved over him, long, damn blond hair swing slightly as they did so.

  Blond hair… He forced his eyes open further and craned his neck up though that hurt too. Maker, why did everything  _ hurt  _ so damned much?

  “Shhh,” the person said, and placed their hand against Fenris’ cheek, cradling it gently, even tenderly. “I'm here to help you, don't worry.”

_ Please,  _ he tried to say, but the only noise that came from his throat was a low groan of pain.

  “I've got you,” the person whispered, and when Fenris opened his eyes again he realized it was Anders leaning over him. His hair had fallen around him like a thick curtain and he could feel some of it tickling his cheek.

_ I love you, please forgive me.  _ The words stuck in his throat, almost as if he had been rendered mute again.

  “I know,” Anders returned, beginning to lower his face, his voice a whisper, “I know-”

 

  Something pinched him and Fenris shot up, torn from his dream. Blearily he looked around to see a crab awkwardly sidling away and, had he not suddenly been consumed by the implications of his dream he might have chased after it.

  There had been a flood of remembering- too many memories for Fenris to fully recognize each one, and in it that single moment had been lost.

  Now… He huddled further into himself, wrapping his arms around his tail and resting his cheek on what had once been his knees. Though it disgusted him to feel the press of his scales against his cheek he nevertheless closed his eyes and used it to try to center himself.

  He had traveled with Anders for many many weeks and though it only made his heart ache more he recognized that Anders would have absolutely risked himself in order to save the life of a stranger. 

  He remembered now, the month that had come after his near drowning, the way his mind had wandered again and again to the creature that had saved him. He remembered how his dreams had become consumed with thoughts of him, how Fenris had longed to meet him, at least to  _ thank  _ him if nothing else.

  The irony only made him hunch his shoulders further inward and grit his teeth as he fought against giving into his despair. To think that he had found what he had been looking for, only to run from it like a coward.

  He was a coward- He knew this, knew it deep in his bones. If he had been brave he would have dealt with his emotions, would have turned to Anders. That, he thought angrily, would have been the smart thing to do.

  He wasn’t that either, especially if his memories were anything to go by. Running away from home, saying yes to that stupid witch- 

  Blinking he sat up a little bit more, suddenly thinking hard. That witch- The one who had turned him- It seemed like a far off hope that she would be able to return him to his human body, or that he would even be able to find her, and yet, if he could…

  He had retained the memory of where his home was and, if he could figure out where the coast was and begin swimming towards it, perhaps he could figure out someway to get on land and to get to her. 

  The thought of trying to get back on land suddenly stopped him, however, and his shoulders slumped. He could just imagine trying to get around, having to drag more than half his body weight in the form of a tail behind him. He would be immediately stopped, of course, or perhaps just killed. He had the form of a monster, and he could not have blamed anyone for seeing him that way. 

  His second thought was of Anders again- He could find the witch who had done this and force her to change him back but Anders… Anders had always been a mer. He belonged in the ocean, just as Fenris belonged on land. And although he had no real hope of ever finding the other man again he knew that if he lost his tail he would lose the chance to reunite with him forever. 

  For a long time he thought about this, thought about the time he had spend with the other mer, thought of his family and his life before all of this. He grew hungry and eventually he began to move, aching from sitting in one position for two long, his mind drifting as aimlessly as he was.

  Without conscious thought he found himself beginning to swim closer and closer to the top of the water. He remembered being able to breath air as a mer, though it was rather unpleasant, but still he continued his ascent. Even if he could see the coast, even if he could begin heading towards it… He knew it was pointless, yet still he swam, finally pushing himself above the waves. 

  The first breath was pain, as was his second and his third. His first few minutes above the water were spent simply trying to control his breathing and to adjust until, finally, he managed to get himself under control.

  He blinked, frowning and feeling his heart tighten when he could see no land before him. The waves were choppy, and every few seconds one would hit him, splashing his face with water and irritating him. There had to be land- Somewhere. They could not have travelled that far from the coast. Fenris turned, suddenly feeling desperate, and then stopped, mouth falling into a grim line. 

  Land.  _ His  _ land. It was far, but he knew that he was capable of reaching it, if he truly wished to. If he tried hard enough, fought hard enough, perhaps he could return to his body and his life. 

  His heart nagged at him, reminding him that if he chose this path that he would be giving up on Anders forever. But he had already done that when he had run away, hadn’t he? And who was to say that Anders would wish for him to return in the first place? 

  With that thought in his head Fenris ducked his head beneath the waves and began to swim.


	13. ...And Found People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE MIND THE TAGS FOR THIS CHAPTER  
> There is torture- I didn't get *terribly* graphic, but it is definitely depicted here, as well as description of physical injury that may be uncomfortable for some people.
> 
> Things are going to be bad for a little while before they're better. 
> 
> So for Jonathan- I thought of making Meredith's assistant Cullen but for reasons that'll become clear later it didn't really work out well enough. So, have an underdeveloped OC!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want to skip the real nasty bits skip from "Not, he thought, that he was going to let that stop him," and then it should probably be okay to pick back up at "He had agreed to assist in the capture of mers- "

  Though he knew it futile Anders rose again in the morning in order to continue his search for Fenris. He had been wracked with nightmares of terrible things happening to his love, interspersed with guilt over the fact that he had been unable to stop him from leaving and for whatever he had done to cause all of this.

  He did not know what it was exactly- Whether it was the dance or the sex or a combination of the two- But he was now fairly convinced that he had caused this to all happen. Perhaps he had pushed too much? Fenris had been the first one to kiss him, but that didn’t mean that Anders had had to go straight to, well,  _ mating  _ with him.

  These thoughts made his heart heavy but still he moved on, trying to pick a good direction to move in. Not that that meant much underwater, but he at least would  _ try  _ to find him. His stomach grumbled unpleasantly but he ignored it- He knew he would have to eat at some point but the anxiety had begun to build in his chest and he knew he needed to search, at least for a little while, to try and alleviate some of the tension and fear inside of him.

  The hours passed, the sun rising higher and higher in the sky, and still his search was fruitless. Briefly he stopped to hunt after some fish but, once he had it, he found himself only able to pick at it. His earlier hunger seemed to have disappeared and eventually Anders gave up on eating, instead choosing to continue his hunt.

  Hours turned into days with brief respites for rest and food. He did not indulge much in either, his grief and despair making it difficult to sleep or eat very much at all. He knew that it would ultimately make him weaker but the longer her went without finding Fenris the more difficult it became for him to care.

  In these long stretches of travel, silent without a companion beside him, he thought of Karl, and his family. He thought of all of the people he had lost before and could not help but wonder if Fenris was going to become yet another name on his list.

  Of the two of them, him and Fenris, he had always been the cheery one. Always the one cracking jokes and teasing Fenris. They had complimented each other in this respect, Fenris’ gruff demeanor offset by Anders’ pleasantness. It had always been rewarding when, finally, one of his jokes would land home and Fenris would crack a smile or even, rarely, laugh in that kind of gravely voice of his.

  Now, however, he was finding it more and more difficult to resist slipping into despair. There was no one beside him to tease or distract and the silence was becoming crushing. He no longer knew even where he was going- The rock formations all looked the same to him and although he came across the occasional shipwreck which could serve as a landmark they were few and far between.

  He suspected that he was heading towards the coast, and though he knew this was dangerous he was finding it hard to be particularly concerned. He was too blinded by grief, moving just to move, to try and stop feeling some of the emotions that would not leave him be.

  It was worse, he thought, to have had Fenris leave the way he had. Karl had died of an injury that Anders simply had not been able to heal and, while he had almost drowned in guilt and self-pity afterwards, there at least had been resolution to that. Karl had died, which meant that, eventually, Anders had been able to move on. 

  But Fenris was just missing and that meant, though it waned with each passing day, Anders could continue to hope, could continue to dream that they might somehow be reunited. A part of him wanted to give up on hoping, to end his torment, but he found himself incapable of leaving it entirely. 

  Perhaps Fenris would head back to the coast as well? There wasn’t any particular reason why Anders thought he would, except, perhaps, that it had been close to where they had first met. 

  He still remembered how Fenris had been- Strange looking, more than a little intimidating in his appearance and silence, and yet completely and utterly helpless. It almost made him smile a little, thinking of how he would tease the other man and how Fenris, even before he had begun to speak again, would glare at him and communicate how, ah, displeased the teasing had made him.

  Anders also remembered how, slowly, Fenris had begun to return his jokes. Their hand gestures hadn’t been able to cover everything, but they had learned to almost converse with them and, even without a voice, Fenris had been witty. 

  Briefly Anders closed in his eyes, slowing slightly. By the great Sea Mother had the man been funny when he wished to- And his smiles too, the way he would wrap his arms around him...

  Grief overwhelmed him all of a sudden, not that, Anders thought bitterly, it hadn’t been doing that for the past few days as well. But he thought his memories to be relatively safe, especially such happy ones. Clearly he was wrong, as thinking about Fenris like this only made Anders miss him all the more. 

_ Just keep moving _ , he told himself,  _ the grief will pass _ . Or, at least, it would lessen in its intensity. 

  There were some traumas, he thought, that one never really healed from. You simply learned to carry the weight a little better. 

  The sun was beginning to dip lower and lower into the sky and Anders knew that he would need to stop and rest soon. His stomach was grumbling too but that seemed rather secondary. Still, he eyed some of the fish that passed him hungrily, trying not to think about how many days he had been traveling with only the bare minimum of food in his stomach.

  The closer he got to the coast the more common ships and other signs of land dwellers became. Whenever he saw one he would dip, low beneath the waves, in order to hide. Most people, he knew, would simply not see him, but there was always the danger of hunters or of other people who thought that they might make quick gold by capturing someone like him.

  He could not help but unpleasantly smile- Most mer did not have the abilities that he did, and though he prided himself greatly on his healing abilities he was also just as proud about his abilities when it came to offensive magic.

  It was as he was thinking these thoughts that he felt a small boat pass near him and his spines straightened unpleasantly. He grimaced, looking up to catch sight of what it was- Likely just fisherman, though it was rather late in the day for…

  He felt himself freeze as he stared up, watching as a woman and another man stepped to the bow of the ship. 

  The Hunters.

  The ones who had attacked him and Fenris before. Who had so badly hurt him.

   For a moment he was stunned, unable to think, and then just as suddenly he was filled with a burning rage, staring up into those cold, blue eyes. He did not recognize the other person but he did not care- They were likely a hunter too, and deserved whatever fate they met.  

  At any other moment in his life Anders would have fled- His magic was powerful, he knew this, but there was no reason to engage in a fight if he could evade, especially when he was alone. 

  But he was bereaved. And he was  _ angry _ . He was so, so angry- At himself for ruining all of the good things that had come to him, at Fenris for leaving him without a second glance as if Anders had been no more than some flotsam, and at these people who seemed to hound him and his kind like starved dogs. 

  He could already feel the magic building in his palms, snapping and crackling like electricity, traveling along his arms, up on his shoulders and back. These people had come here, had invaded the ocean, his home, and Anders was going to make them regret it.

  It was then that Anders truly stopped thinking- He let himself feel his magic, and then he began swimming upwards.  

 

  Anyone else would have appreciated a quiet day at sea- The sun had hung high and bright and the wind had been neither low nor overly high. The waves had been gentle and they had carried Meredith and her boat out from the docks and farther into the open ocean with a gentle easiness. It should have been a good day for sailing, but Meredith did not particularly care about that.

  It had been days, now slowly beginning to turn into weeks, since the king had assigned her the task of retrieving the mer- She did not understand why he wanted this particular one, or how he could even possibly know of its existence, but she would do as she was bid. The compensation was sure to be great, and hunting and capturing the creatures had always been its own reward. 

  She liked watching them flail, she thought, more than anything. Most people assumed that a mer would simply die when exposed to air but this was not true- They could live in it for days before drying out, though it was a painful thing to watch, not unlike a giant fish flopping and gasping desperately for water. 

  It always made her smile. 

  They would cry and beg to be thrown back, groaned about how it burned to be outside of the water- The fact that they could, and often did vocalize their pain so easily was pleasing to her as well. 

  Her thoughts wandered briefly back to her own history but when she saw something move below the water she snapped back to reality. 

  “Ready the harpoon,” she barked before striding to the bow of the ship, heart racing in excitement. Whatever was below the water was moving fast, almost too fast for her eyes to take it in. It might be just a fish or a dolphin but she had never known any of those to move as this creature did.

_ Mer,  _ she thought excitedly, beginning to move around the boat, preparing for battle.

  “ _ Harpoon _ , dammit!” It was a mermaid, she was sure of it, the closer and closer it came to the hull. The way it sped through the water, the flash of a heavy tail-

  Jonathan, her second hand, gave her the harpoon which she took greedily, spinning back around to aim it down into the water. 

  Now the empty water.

  Anxious she searched beneath the waves for the creature that she had seen. It had been approaching her, but for some reason had left? Had it perhaps been scared off? She lowered the harpoon slightly, a frown creasing her face. They could hunt after it, but it had been so close-

  Meredith was nearly thrown overboard when, suddenly, a mass force pushed against the other side of her boat. Jonathan made a noise, stumbling and falling to the floor of the deck, but Meredith ignored him, doing her best to run to the other side of the boat and not fall.

  As soon as she reached it she looked over and then gasped when she saw what was waiting for her.

  Anders stared up at her from beneath the water. His face had been impassive despite the fact that he had just hit the ship with a large blast of energy, but when he saw Meredith it contorted into a look of rage, eyes dark and full of intent. He remembered how she had hurt Fenris, how those cold eyes had watched them with no sense of pity or remorse. How it had reveled in their suffering. 

  The energy began to build in his hands again, electrical this time, and, looking the hunter straight in the eyes he threw it against the side of the ship. 

  She barely managed to grip the railing on the deck and stay aboard, able to do little else.

  “Jonathan!” She yelled, wincing as she watched a chain of lightning sear the side of the hull, charring the wood. “Get over here!”

  Her assistant scrambled over and Anders smirked nastily, watching as Meredith prepared her harpoon. Foolish land dwellers- They had been able to catch him and Fenris by surprise the last time, but they would not be able to do so again. He almost considered moving above the waterline so that he could taunt them but decided against it. He was too angry for words- He did not want to talk. He wanted to damage, to hurt, to kill.

  Meredith looked briefly to Jonathan, her face pinched into a frown. “You know what to do- You  _ know  _ why I hired you.”

  Jonathan nodded grimly, not particularly thrilled about his task but willing to do it, especially for the gold that Meredith had promised him. 

  “I know,” he said, instead, looking back at Meredith and doing his best not to flinch away from the madness that he saw lurking behind her eyes. “I know.”

  Anders watched, vaguely curious as the two people conversed. He did not remember seeing the other man before and, as he had no weapon on him, he suspected that he was some kind of assistant to the hunter, perhaps someone who helped run the ship, like a deckhand. It would be a shame to drown him, but he was not feeling particularly charitable at the moment towards the land dwellers. 

  Suddenly Meredith pulled her harpoon up again, balancing it on the railings of the ship and aiming it towards Anders. He smirked and began moving, watching in amusement as the hunter trying to move to keep up with him. As he swam he began to build up electricity in his hands again, ready to do some real damage to the ship this time.

  He could almost see the moment that the hunter pulled the trigger to release the harpoon, watching it sail gracefully through the air and then plunge into the water. It was almost too easy to swim out of its way, as much as he had been concentrating on it-

  Something heavy, almost like rock, slammed into him, sending him spiraling through the water with a strangled cry. He tried looking to see what had happened, but the left side of his vision seemed to have suddenly acquired a red, hazy quality to it. 

  Above the water Meredith was grinning smugly. Though she did not approve of Jonathan and his methods, she nevertheless recognized his usefulness, especially in situations like this. 

  “I will reel him in,” she said. Usually she would have pulled back her harpoon and shot it again into the confused and disoriented mer to catch it, but there was something about this one that she thought she recognized and harpoon injuries were almost always fatal, “Get me the net.”

  Jonathan gave her a strange look but did as he was told, gathering the heavy rope net and giving it to her, watching as she began to prepare to throw it overboard. Below them the mer had begun to float to the surface of the water, still struggling and attempting, it seemed, to use his magic.

  “Hit him again,” Meredith ordered casually as she tested the strength of the rope the net was made of. 

  “Yes ma’am.” He moved his staff in front of him again and, unflinching, formed a heavy rock in the shape of a fist before aiming it for the mer again.

  The mer, who was now sporting a nasty looking gash above his eye, moved upwards and turned to Jonathan who then released his spell.

   Anders tried to dodge but the head trauma combined with his impaired vision was making it extremely difficult. Healing magic sat, waiting somewhere deep inside of him, but he felt confused and disoriented and when he tried to call up healing magic to his hand shards of ice formed instead. 

_ Dammit _ , he moved, but not enough, and caught the fist with his shoulder, a strangled groan escaping his throat as he felt something _snap_ in his arm. 

  “Heal yourself,” he tried to mutter to himself, slowly struggling to bring his unbroken arm up to the side of his face to address the injury there. “ _ Heal  _ yourself,” he said it almost as a prayer, voice desperate, struggling against the head injury and the pain radiating down his arm and into his chest.

  Though he was focused on his injuries he did see the large shape of a net as it was thrown from over the ship and felt his stomach sink. Weakly he tried calling up something, anything, but his head was pounding and making everything confusing. He tried to call forth electricity but instead ice shot from his palm, sailing past the net and then beginning to sink uselessly below the waves. 

  The net hit him, heavy and oppressive, smothering, and Anders struggled against it, trying to escape but only becoming further tangled. His chest became tight, his breaths strained as he began to flail and panic. It was one thing to be injured by these bastards, and another thing entirely to be captured by them. Though he was having trouble controlling his magic still he fought, shooting off electricity and ice and even attempting to form stone as one of the hunters had apparently done to him. Each movement brought more agony to his broken arm and battered body, but he could not simply let them take him.

  Suddenly he was being raised from the water and into the open air. He gasped, back arching as much as it could in the confined space of the net, his gills flaring as he choked. His lungs burned and his felt his throat constrict unpleasantly as he struggled, the net swaying precariously and thumping against the side of the boat. 

  He groaned as the net was pulled over the railings of the ship and then he was dumped onto the deck carelessly, head smacking against the water-soaked wood. He continued to gasp, trying to adjust to breathing air, his chest burning. Blood was leaking onto the damp wood of the deck and he knew without having to look that it was coming from him.

  “Get the net off of him-” he heard someone order behind him and in the next second he found himself free, albeit still dazed and heavily injured.

  Not, he thought, that he was going to let that stop him.

  He kept his eyes closed, struggling not to wince from the way his arm bent unnaturally, the bone moving against the skin. A wave of nausea overcame him, chilling him, and it took everything in his power not vomit there on the deck.

  “Huh,” he heard, still the first voice. It was a woman, likely the one with the harpoon. He could already feel the magic twitch along his skin as his anger overcame him but he managed to control himself.

  Carefully he slit his eyes open, still playing at having fainted from unconsciousness. If he could just get his magic to work properly he could briefly disable the two people on board (Mother, he hoped there were only two people on board) and then haul himself over the side and escape back into the ocean.

  He could hear the heavy thud of the woman’s boots as she approached and he felt his breath quicken.  _ Just close enough for me to burn you to a crisp _ , he thought,  _ just- _

  His eyes flew open and he gasped when the woman suddenly pressed her boot against his throat, hard. Instinctively his hand flew up, ready to release lightning or ice or just  _ anything  _ to force her away, when suddenly the woman waved her hand over him and he felt his magic go out, like a candle being extinguished.

  Panic hit him then, unlike anything he had ever known. He could handle the broken arm, the choking, the head injury, even being captured. But for his magic to be taken away from him…

  “Now, now, none of that,” the woman pressed her boot in tighter and his unbroken arm moved up to try to weakly grip her ankle, as if he could force her off.

  “Y- Guh-” He tried to curse her, but could barely breathe as it was, let alone form words.

  The woman standing over him cocked her head, cold blue eyes staring into him. She smiled then and he felt his stomach drop, dreading what was to come.

  “I know you,” she said finally. Anders might have been able to agree but between the blood clouding his vision, the head injury and the lack of oxygen he wasn’t in much shape to do anything besides trying to survive to take another breath. 

  “You’re not quite who I’m looking for,” she continued casually, as if it bothered her not at all to have a man beneath her boot choking to death, “But you did travel with the one I am looking for- Dark skin, blue tail. If you tell me what I wish to know I may even consider throwing you back into the ocean.”

_ Fenris _ . He felt his heart tighten at the same moment his lips sealed shut and, though it was difficult, he managed to glare back up at the woman in defiance. Everything hurt, but anger gave him a strength that he would have not otherwise possessed.

  In response the woman pressed her boot down harder and he found himself choking and gasping as he struggled to move his head, flailing the rest of his body. He could hear the wet slap of his tail hitting the deck as he fought against her hold but nothing seemed to move the woman. After a few seconds she lifted her boot incrementally and he opened his mouth, breathing deeply at the sudden surge of oxygen, trying to fight against the blackness that prickled at the edge of his vision.

  “You have a terrible card face,” she remarked. “Now, I am a patient woman, especially when there is something that I want badly. You can test me if you wish, but I would not recommend it.”

  The boot was pressing down again now, slowly, the brief respite already over, and though Anders felt his eyes begin to water and his heart begin to slam against his ribcage in panic, still he would not speak. Fenris may have left him but he would not- He  _ could  _ not do that to him. He was his mate, his love, his  _friend_. And  _fuck_ this woman for thinking he would give him up so easily. 

  “Tell me,” this time it was said with a hiss and, had Anders had the wherewithal, he might have replied that the woman obviously wasn’t so patient after all.

  “ _ Tell me _ ,” the leather of her boot was hard and Anders’ thoughts briefly floated back to Fenris as he felt the black grow bigger. Mother, he’d loved him. He was still angry and hurt, but he loved him- And he hoped he was alright. By the great Sea Mother he hoped he was alright.

 

 

  Jonathan stood off to the side of the railing, heart and stomach sick as he watched Meredith torture the mer for information, choking him, bringing him almost to the edge of unconsciousness and then dragging him back again. 

  And again. And again. And  _ again _ . He’d never truly thought of them as people- Still didn’t, not really, but damned if they didn’t act just like a man.

  Meredith’s ability to disable magic also made him nervous- He was a mage himself, after all, and though he was being paid well there were things that money simply could not make up for.

  “Er, Meredith, maybe-” He didn’t know how long he had watched Meredith torture the poor creature, only that he had finally had enough. He had watched as the mer’s face had first gone red from struggling to breath and fight against the boot on its neck, to now faintly blue from oxygen starvation. Each time Meredith applied the boot again the thing struggled less and less and Jonathan suspected that it was only a matter of time before she outright killed it.

_ Perhaps that would be best _ , he thought. After all, if the poor bastard managed to survive it would only be so that it could undergo more torture.

  “What?” Her voice dripped with venom and when she turned her gaze on him he flinched, never mind that she was not even touching him.

  “You’re- You’re going to kill it. Perhaps you should… Stop and… And wait? To see if it will give up information later?” He dropped his eyes, not liking the way that Meredith was looking at him and suddenly wished that he had not spoken up at all.

  Finally he heard the wet smack of a boot hitting the wood of the deck and he looked up to see Meredith striding away, obviously enraged.

  “Keep him from dying,” she barked without looking back, “But I want it to remain incapacitated so that it can be questioned later,” before moving down into the bowels of the ship and leaving Jonathan and the mermaid alone on the deck together.

  It took a few moment for the shock to wear off but when it finally did Jonathan rushed to the side of the creature, wincing at he took him in. The thing’s arm was obviously broken and his face was a mess of bloodied cuts and bruises. He was breathing, albeit shallowly, and Jonathan could not help but wonder if Meredith had crushed its windpipe- If so the creature was lost anyway. Jonathan had some healing magic but it would not have been enough.

  “Can you- Can you speak? Breath?” He almost laughed hysterically at his own question as he looked to the man’s throat and saw a faintly boot-print bruise beginning to form. Could the thing  _ speak _ ?

  The thing opened its mouth and then closed it again. The end of its tail flicked somewhat but it was nothing more than a muscle twitch. It was in bad shape and Jonathan began to worry about what would happen to  _ him  _ if he could not save it.

  He had agreed to assist in the capture of mers- As a boy, and as an adult, he had always been told that they were vicious creatures who lured sailors to their death so that they might feast on their bones. He still believed that, somewhat, but it was difficult not to feel pity for the creature before him.

  There had, of course, also been all of the other mer that he had helped Meredith hunt- The ones that Meredith had tracked down, who had seemed so… Innocent.

  Sighing and closing his eyes he moved his hands over the prone body before him. He would do his best to help the thing- The Maker would decide whether was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im at laurpas.tumblr.com


	14. Fish Out of Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't imagine that, being a mermaid, Anders would know about suppressing magic/templar nonsense, which is why he's so confused when it's applied to him.
> 
> Anyway, the plot progresses and our two heros get closer to meeting once again.

  His head was throbbing and there was a heavy weight around his neck. He felt- Parched. Literally as if he had been left out of the water for too long, and as he came back to consciousness he realized why.

  He was on land, on rather, on a boat. The urge to panic was strong but he resisted, knowing that he needed his wits about him if he was going to escape… Whatever this was.

  The first thing he realized, as he began to take stock of his surroundings, was that he had been placed in a large tub of some sort that had then been filled to the brim with water. It helped a little, but a large part of his upper body, as well as much of his tail, had been left to dry out in the open air and he twitched, trying to resist the urge to scratch and itch skin that had become dry and scaly. Reaching up he frowned, pawing at his neck and then stopping as his hands met cool metal. It circled all the way around his neck and he closed his eyes, struggling to contain his emotions. Losing control would not help him, he reminded himself. 

  Breathing deeply, trying not to flinch at the feel of metal against his collarbone he closed his eyes and then opened them again.  _An animal_ , he thought, half enraged, half hysterical,  _Collared like an animal_.

  He moved forward in agitation and then stopped, groaning and falling back. His arm ached and he remembered suddenly all too well the fact that it had broken. Someone had put a splint on it but they had done a rather shoddy job of it- The two pieces of wood that made up the splint were uneven and the bandaging had been wrapped around his arm far too tightly. Already he could see that the skin above the bandaging was swelling, and his eyes trailed along painful looking bruises which snaked out from under the linen wrappings and over his arm.

  Raising his undamaged hand he moved it to lie just over his arm and, closing his eyes, called healing magic into his palm.

  Nothing. 

  Not a single spark to let him know that he had ever possessed magic in the first place.

  He grunted, furrowing his brow and concentrating harder. Fear had begun to creep and spread from deep within him, but he refused to listen to it. He was- Magic had been a part of him, ever since he had been a child. There was no way it could have left him now, no reason or explanation.

  A brief memory flashed before his eyes, of a woman moving over him, waving her hand in a strange way. His magic…

  He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, telling himself that his injuries had just made him confused. Sometimes he used too much magic and had to wait to recharge, as it were, before he could do so again. He was sure that that was what had happened to him.

  Again, he called for his magic, for the spirits to come and help him heal his arm.

  And again, there was nothing.

  He dropped his unbroken arm back into the water and stared at it, hard. He hurt, everywhere, and he wanted nothing more than to be able to use his magic to heal himself, as he had so many times in the past. 

  Anders was distracted from his thoughts, which had begun to spiral down into truly dark places, when the door to the room he was trapped in was opened and a short, dark haired man stumbled inside suddenly. He was carrying something and looking down at his feet and when he finally looked up and saw that Anders was awake he gave a strangled cry, nearly dropping what he had been holding.

  “You- You’re- You’re awake! And alive! I… Hadn’t thought that… Well, I did my best to heal you, but healing magic really is not my… Strength, and so…”

  The two men stared at each other, Jonathan’s words dying in his throat. He still wasn’t sure that the creature would be able to understand him. It was glaring at him, which was probably a good sign that it could, but so far it had refused to speak.

  “I brought you some… Food,” he said, lifting up a tray of things that were entirely foreign looking to Anders. Some small brown thing that smelled yeasty and a warm bowl of… Something. There was no fish anywhere on the plate, not even seaweed, and Anders wondered if this was the man’s idea of a joke.

  “I’m not much of a cook either, but, well…” Jonathan slowly walked around the creature and nervously put the tray down before quickly backing away. Meredith had ordered him to put a suppression collar on the thing and so in that regard it couldn’t hurt either of them, but, even as injured at it was, Jonathan still understood why mer were so feared.

  He was massive, for one thing- While the upper half of him, the… Person half of him was relatively normal sized his tail was almost as long as a man was tall and it looked heavy and dangerous, a color too close to fresh blood for Jonathan’s liking.

  The thing’s gaze, so full of fury, so  _ sentient _ was just as terrifying, however.

  “You shouldn’t fight her,” he said, softly, instead, and then watched as the creature shifted and moved as if agitated, sloshing water over the side of the tub. “She will get what she wants eventually- You’d save yourself a lot of pain if you just told her what she wanted.”

  He watched as the creature bared its teeth, tiny, needle-like things, and swallowed heavily, even as a tiny part of him hoped that the mer proved to be a match for Meredith.

  “Alright, alright,” he said, softly, “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” There was a long moment of silence in which he considered saying more before finally Jonathan gave up. With nothing else to say he turned and left, closing the door softly behind him. He had done his job, after all and he had no desire to be in the room with that… Creature any longer than he had to be.

  It took a long time for Anders to get his emotions under control. Though he suspected that the man might have been able to explain a lot of things- Namely where they were, why he was still alive and why he could feel not a single trace of his magic anywhere, he had been too upset to ask. He didn’t remember the man participating in his torture but it was clear that he had not lifted a single finger to help him escape it.

  And then, for him to suggest that Anders just give up what he knew about Fenris- He nearly vibrated in outrage over it. Not that his information would have been of much use, but still, he would never…

  For the first time since Fenris had left him he was glad that the man had. He almost laughed as the thought crossed his mind. How screwed up had his life become that he was  _ relieved  _ that his mate had left him? Still, it meant that that hunter hadn’t been able to hurt him, and there was something in that.

  Closing his eyes he left his head drop to his chest, only to groan and lift his head up again. The collar was making it difficult to move his head well and his neck hurt terribly, unsurprising given what had happened yesterday. Most of his memory of the event was hazy and unclear, but he remembered the feel of the boot as it had pressed against him, the smell of wet leather, sodden wood and blood.

_ Sea Mother have mercy on me _ , he suddenly thought, he was not going to survive this, was he?

 

 

 

  “The hunter you hired, Meredith, has returned and she says that she has something she thinks you will be very interested in.”

  The king had been in his private office, working, when Varric had shown up at his door, looking slightly queasy. In his arms he held several papers, as he often did, but they seemed forgotten in the face of whatever it was Meredith had brought.

  “Yes? What is it?” It had been several weeks since he had dispatched Meredith on her quest and each day that had passed without word from her had diminished his hope that she would be able to bring him his son.

  There were also days that he had wondered if he would even want to see his son. If the witch’s story was true, and had it not been for the ring he never would have believed her wild tale, his son had been tortured and deformed, had experienced horrors that no man should have. Would his son even want to be brought back? Especially if the witch could not change him back?

  But none of this mattered much- Fenris was his son, and he belonged at home. And if Meredith had finally brought him back…

  “Ah… You should… You should probably see this for yourself. She is causing… Quite an upset in the throne room.”

  The king stiffened, his dark countenance turning briefly pale. He had stressed discretion when he had hired Meredith, but apparently she had not taken heed. Standing he quickly moved around the desk and burst out the door, beginning to walk swiftly to the great hall where he held court, Varric hurriedly walking behind him, a worried look on his face.

  When they finally entered the throne room it was to find the Queen standing on the dais, looking both angry and terrified. There were several guardsmen in the room surrounding Meredith and another man as well as a… Large glass container. It took the king several long moments to realize that there was something  _ in  _ the container and when he did he felt his stomach drop.

  “Everyone save for the guard, out.  _ Now _ !” He hollered the last word, in the same voice he used to bow foreign kings and keep uppity young recruits in line. The same voice that had been known to strike fear into the hearts of even the hardiest of men.

  The people in the hall, a few stray noblemen who had come to watch the spectacle, several servants, and some additional guardsmen, scrambled to obey his orders. As they did so he approached his wife who was staring at him, her eyes wide and furious, and then turned to look at the glass case, struggling to understand what he was seeing.

  It was… Terrible. And massive. And awe inspiring. He remembered the stories he had been told as a child, of the great monsters who roamed the floors of the oceans, waiting greedily for shipwrecks and eager to terrorize sailors. The harbingers of storms and doom to any who dared tread the ocean.

  It turned its gaze on the king, startlingly human, and the king flinched back as it banged its heavily muscled tail and then its fists against the glass, half animal and half man.

  This clearly was not his son- But the king could not help but feel his heart sink at the knowledge that Fenris had been transformed into… Into one of these things. On its neck it wore a collar and he internally shuddered.

  “Maker help me,” he muttered, struck dumb.

  “She said-” His wife was still a little shaky with rage and shock and he could not blame her.  _ He _ still was struggling to come up with an appropriate way to respond to all of this. And then his eyes turned to the hunter, and he saw the smug, self-satisfied look on her face.

  “Here,” she said, but when she saw the king’s face she faltered slightly. “This is not  _ quite  _ the creature you wanted-”

  “ _ Then why in the Maker’s name have you brought it? _ ” The king didn’t even realize he’d yelled it, he was so confused and upset. 

  “It can show you where the- The one you want is. They traveled together. Only…”

  “Only  _ what _ ?” The king hissed, still having trouble looking at the creature which had only become more agitated as their conversation went on. The top of the glass enclosure was open and every time he moved water would slosh out, staining the carpeting. Around him the guards shuffled uneasily, watching the creature as it moved in the tiny space, twisting and continuing to thump its tail against the glass.

  “Well- It refuses to speak.”

  “It can  _ speak _ ?” The king stared, eyes moving rapidly from Meredith to the creature and then back again.

  “Well- Yes. It certainly seems to understand us.” She gestured to herself and her… Colleague or whatever he was. The king didn’t care. The king just wanted his son home, safe, and these fucking people out of his court. And in that order. “But we have not been able to… Persuade it to speak to us-”

  Something about her words seemed to enrage the monster even more so than normal, for it suddenly began throwing itself against the glass and opened its mouth as if it were… Shouting.

  The king, both disgusted and mesmerized, slowly began to walk towards the glass enclosure. He could hear… Something. Words? Between the water and the glass it was difficult but- He reared back, suddenly, realizing that he could understand what the creature was saying, faintly.

_ Liar- Liar! You fucking- _

  “It can speak,” the king said, voice faint, feeling ill.

  For a brief moment Meredith looked at him, a look of triumph flashing across her face, as if there was anything about this situation to feel good about.

  “I… All of you…” He gestured to the guards, to Varric, to his wife, and then to the hunter and her assistant. “Out. I want… To speak to it, alone.”

  The monster turned to stare at him at this, eyes wide and- Was that fear he saw? Surely something like this could not feel… Scared?

  Meredith began to argue but the king pointedly looked past her to his guards. Everyone, save for the hunters, perhaps, found this all intensely disturbing and he knew that they were all eager to leave and be gone from the room.

  “Of course, Your Majesty. Please, let us know if there is anything else we can do to assist you.”

  It wasn’t worth the argument with Meredith, and the king was too busy watching the creature in front of him to care much anyway. It took several minutes for everyone to file out, the Queen stopping to put a comforting hand on his arm and to spare him a concerned glance. He returned it and then waited until the final person pulled the doors to the great hall shut before he turned to stare at the creature.

  Anders watched as the man- Some kind of ruler apparently- Moved around him, watching him with narrow, dark eyes. With the exception of his eyes and hair he looked distressingly like Fenris, his ears even pointed like his had been, and Anders could not help but wonder if these were yet more people who had sought to hurt his mate.

  Who had he been before Anders had come across him? How had he been known to any of these people? None of the scenarios that Anders had tried to run through in his head had made sense, and as the days had passed, as he had been subject to torture and starvation and desiccation and he had moved further and further into his own mind a deep sense of confusion and unease had begun to build deep within him.

  The man approached the glass and Anders backed away, narrowing his eyes and baring his teeth. He did not appear to be inherently aggressive, not like the hunters or some of the guardsmen, but Anders also understood that the hunters answered to him, and for that reason he could not trust him. Not that he would have trusted a land dweller in the first place.

  He raised his hand and Anders watched to see what he would do, preparing himself for pain. All he had known for the past week was pain and he saw no reason why this would be any different.

  It was shocking then, when the person put his hands against the glass and pressed his forehead against it. Anders, still watching him, became suddenly nervous. What was this? The man was obviously terrified and disgusted by him, as had been all of the land dwellers he had been carted in front of, like some kind of animal, and yet he looked up at Anders with more hope than any man had a right to.

  The king stared at the creature, swallowing heavily and trying to determine where to begin. He had heard the creature speak, but there seemed little reason why it should have cooperated with them. He could see the bruises and cuts that marked its body and was smart enough to know that he had not been treated kindly.

  “You have no reason to trust me,” the man started, much to Anders’ surprise, “And I do not necessarily expect you to aid me.” He took a deep breath and what Anders saw confused him more than anything else since he had been forcibly dragged out of the water. This man was grieving, obviously- But why or how this connected to Anders he could not say.

  “I will not, and suspect, cannot command you to do as I wish. In all the stories about mermaids I was told as a boy, you were creatures of great power. But you were also free, in a way that no man was. Unconquerable. It is clear to me that this is true- Though you have come to me battered, collared, in a cage not fit for… For an animal- Still you fight.

  “I come to you, begging you to help me. My son has been taken from me, and I suspect that you are one of the only…” The king paused on the word ‘people’ before finally swallowing and continuing. The creature was listening to him, clearly, and did have a strangely intelligent look on its face. “The only people who might be able to help me. So, please- Please- Can you tell me where my son is?”

  Anders sank slightly, moving towards the bottom of the tank, staring at the man with wide eyed confusion. None of what he was saying was making sense, least of all his questions about his son.

  And yet, he had been the first land dweller that Anders had met to treat him with any modicum of respect. Of course, he could always turn on him later, but something about his grief seemed genuine and… Disturbingly familiar.

  “…I am sorry,” Anders said, and he truly was. “But I am afraid I do not know your son. I do not know any of you… Land people. It is unnatural for my kind to leave the ocean- And, had I had the choice, I would never have.” He could not help his voice as it turned bitter, still angry over all that had been done to him.

  “My son…” The man seemed at a loss for words, his hands curling into fists. “He is not… He has been cursed. Has been cursed by a witch.”

  Anders blinked and then felt his stomach drop as he slowly began to understand the insinuation. It was… Impossible. Impossible- No-

  “Your son,” Anders said, voice thick, “Is his name… Is his name Fenris?”

  The man looked up so sharply, with eyes so full of hope, and Anders felt his stomach plunge, even as his head began to spin. None of this made any sense. He knew magic- But what the man was describing sounded dark and insidious, and unlike anything that Anders was familiar with.

  “You have met him then? Please- Is he okay? Is he- We all just want him home-”

  Anders hung his head, feeling the despair overcome him. Briefly he wondered what the man would do once he realized that Anders was effectively useless, but his thoughts were mainly consumed by the realization of what had been done to his love. Of  _ what  _ his love was.

  “He is gone,” Anders said, “He- Left me, shortly before the hunter picked me up.” His voice had gone dull, his mind still reeling. All he wanted was to be alone so that he could process everything that he had just been told, but he knew he would find no such luck. “I am sorry, but I cannot help you.”

  “But the hunter told me that you could- That you could help me-” The king took a step backwards as the creature looked at him, eyes full of hatred.

  “Do you really trust that fucking-” At the last moment he seemed to gain a hold of himself, looking back down again. In a quieter voice he said, “I cannot help you. Your son did travel with me for some time, but then he…” He swallowed heavily, the thought of Fenris leaving still bringing tears to his eyes, “He left, and though I searched for him I had not managed to find him.”

  “And if I let you go? Could you find him then? I could- I do not know how I could assist you, but I would-”

  But Anders was already shaking his head sadly. “It would be a miracle if I were to ever see your son again- The ocean is not like your lands, with their roads and directions. We travel with the currents but I do not think…” If what this man was saying about Fenris was true, then he had no idea about swimming along currents or staying back from the coast. “I am sorry. But I cannot do this.”

  The king looked at him, briefly sad, and then enraged. 

   “Fine,” he hissed, and Anders closed his eyes, having known that this would come, even as he had told Fenris’ apparent father that he could not help him. This was what land dwellers were like- All of them. He thought of Fenris, thinking of the last words that he had spoken to him.

_ I remember everything. _

_   This is not right _ .

  The Great Sea Mother had never smiled upon him- She had been  _ laughing  _ at him. To tie him to a land dweller. 

  The king stalked past the glass case and Anders watched dully, wondering what would become of him now. He thought to ask, even to beg, to just be set free into the ocean again but he knew that that would not happen. Perhaps they would kill him- Anders was not sure that it would be so terrible. 

  He heard a great thudding sound behind him, the doors, as they called it, falling closed behind Fenris’ father and he was left alone to wait and see what would become of him.


	15. Siren's Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't write a story about the ocean and *not* have everyone's favorite pirate there, of course.

  The closer he got to the coast the more he had to work to avoid running into ships and smaller boats, which was unsurprising given that the capital was a port city which made much of its money trading by sea. He had known this since he was a young child, watching the ships as they ferried across the harbor or sailed off, deeper into the ocean from his window. He would lean his elbows on the sill of the window, propping up his head, and watch as the great vessels turned away from the coast, moving towards the horizon and becoming smaller and smaller until he could no longer see them.

  It wasn’t the large boats that Fenris was afraid of- They were easy to spot and thus easy to avoid, and everyone on deck was so high above the water that they were unlikely to spot him anyway. It was the smaller ships, the fishing vessels, the merchants who had not quite established themselves, that worried him. More than once he had had to quickly dive down beneath the waves to avoid them and he knew he was lucky he had not yet been caught.

  Had he had a choice he would have simply swum deep under the ocean, keeping close to the sandy bottom of the sea. But he was still too far from the coast to get a good view of it beneath the waves and so he was forced every so often to come up for air and to make sure that he was still heading in the right direction.

  It had been days since he had started on his quest- Clearly he had underestimated just how far away land was, but he was nothing if not determined. Most of that time he had spent swimming, focusing on moving his body instead of his turbulent thoughts, only taking the occasional break to rest and gather food. His thoughts often tried to get away from him, to return to Anders, or anxiety about his family and disgust over his disfigured body. Always he would promptly drag himself back to the present but the closer he got to the coast, to his  _ home _ , the harder it became to disentangle himself.

  He had started running because that was what he did when he became upset, or when the world became too much. Fenris knew it was foolish- Knew that it helped nothing. But there were things in this world he knew he could not fight against, and so he would flee, hoping, despite his past experiences, that it would somehow help.

  In a terrible sort of way, he supposed that he deserved what had happened to him. He had run from his home, abandoned his duties, his family, all of the people who had depended on him. Had undoubtedly caused grief to his parents, his sister, and to Anders.

  And now he was being compelled to return, mutilated and ashamed and- And heartbroken.

  Of course, he thought bitterly, his thoughts would turn to Anders again.

  He understood loss and sadness and told himself that in time they would fade. That there were more important things for him to attend to. But, as the days and nights had dragged on, anxiety had begun to grow in his chest too.

  It was understandable- He only vaguely remembered the witch who had done this to him, and there was no guarantee that she would be able to return him to his natural state. Or that he would even survive all of the people he would have to get past to get to her. 

  But there was something else- Something else that had begun to haunt his dreams and scurried around his head like an unfed rat. 

  Something about Anders. Something  _ wrong  _ with Anders. 

  He could not have explained it if he tried, what it was he was feeling or even where it was coming from. Fenris had left him, and done his very best to put the man out of his head ever since, to grieve and then to move on. 

  But he could not, not fully. Something… Bad had happened to Anders. He knew it, in his bones, in his heart. It was foolishness, he told himself, but somehow he  _ knew _ .

  It was hopeless, to think he could still find Anders- He knew he would never see the other man again, and this made his fear all the worse. To think, that he had abandoned him, that he could not protect him.

  Swallowing heavily Fenris forced himself to swim harder, to push the thoughts from his mind. His worry helped him very little- And it did not help Anders at all.

  It was night, which generally meant it was safer to swim close to the surface of the water. Few ships were out and it was all too easy to evade those that were. Though his markings and the soft glow they emitted had threatened to be a problem he had discovered that even those generally did not give him away. It wasn’t as if most people were looking to the water for a mer anyway- He hadn’t in his time as captain of a ship, and neither did most other people.

  Though he had made a point to swim mostly at night and rest during the day when people would be more active he already found himself tiring, his eyes slipping shut against his will. It was no surprise that he had not been sleeping well and the closer and closer he got to the coast the less time he spent sleeping at all. Eager wasn’t quite the word for what he felt. No, anxious, was far better. If he had estimated correctly he had only a few more days until he reached the coast and though he still had no good plans for what he would do once he got there, he kept telling himself he would figure something out when the time came.

  To his left, a few paces away, he saw a ship ambling past and he slowed, watching it. He’d allowed it to get far too close- Had he had not been so fatigued he would have swum away from it far before it could get this close to him- but no one save for a lone woman standing near the bow seemed to be above deck and so he allowed himself to relax slightly.

  His spines began to straighten slightly and, disgusted, he shivered, trying to shake them off. Awful things- He’s never get used to them-

  “Oh, are you going for a midnight swim too?”

  He whipped around, startled, only to see a woman behind him, treading slow circles in the water. 

  “I apologize for startling you- Really, I didn’t mean to!” She cocked her head to the side, her short, dark hair falling a little and sticking against her face where it was damp. “I was just swimming and, well…”

  She blinked, large green eyes that seemed rather young for how old she clearly was. “Oh, where is your ship?”

  “Find something kitten?” 

  Fenris quickly turned to look back to the boat which had begun to drift towards him. The lone woman who had been standing on the deck was now at the railing and was watching both of them with keen interest. Fenris felt his heart drop. 

  “I-” He started, only to be interrupted by the other woman. 

  “See, I’m not the only one who likes swimming like this Bela!” She paddled along past him and Fenris watched her for a moment before his eyes met the woman on deck who was watching him with a shrewd gaze. 

  “I never said you were, kitten,” she replied without taking her eyes off of Fenris. She wore heavy gold jewelry, he noted, her long dark hair tied back with a bandana. Vaguely she looked familiar and when Fenris realized why he inhaled sharply. 

  “You are the pirate Isabela- Queen of the Eastern Seas.”

  The ship she was currently sailing was not what he would have expected- It was rather small for one, far too small to be used for raiding or piracy. Yet the woman who stood and watched  Fenris could have been no one else. He had seen too many wanted posters with her face on it, had heard too many tales of her, each beginning with a long description of her physical features and, often, her… Assets. 

  “So I am,” she replied, grinning at him, “Though I’ve taken to terrorizing the Western Seas as well.”

  “Oh Bela that’s not true at all!” The other woman was still floating around, occasionally dunking beneath the waves and then moving up again, playing in the water as if it were perfectly normal to run across a lone man swimming in the middle of the ocean in the dead of night. It appeared that neither had noticed his deformities and, as subtly as he could, Fenris let himself slip a little between the waves, hoping to cover himself more.

  “I wouldn’t call you a terror at all,” the other woman continued and then began moving towards the ship, “Well, maybe a little- There was that one time…”

  Fenris had already begun to tune out the other woman’s rambling, having immediately labeled it as unimportant. But before he could do anything else his mouth began moving and he heard himself utter, “Do you have room for one more passenger?”

  It was madness, pure madness. But the Queen of the Eastern Seas was not just a pirate- She was a smuggler as well, and completely, utterly, bereft of morals. In other words, she was the perfect person to help Fenris.

  Isabela’s eyes narrowed as she studied the man in the water. She knew what he was- It was obvious, even if he seemed to be doing his best to hide himself, but now she wasn’t so sure. What mermaid in their right mind would ask for passage on a ship? And to what end?

  “Have you anything to pay me with?” She asked, already knowing the answer.

  “I…” Fenris paused, unsure. He had no money, of course, but wasn’t entirely sure that he could promise to pay her in work either, what with his… Condition. “I am afraid I do not have any gold  _ on _ me, but if you would give me passage I can reward you handsomely.”

  “Uh-huh,” she replied and Fenris felt his chest tighten, knowing that she was going to tell him no. The hope that had slowly begun to grow was quickly wilting and he ducked his head, waiting for her next words. 

  “Well… I suppose I’ll just have to trust you to keep your word, won’t I?” She drawled out, giving Fenris a gentle smirk when he whipped his head up to stare at her.

  “Truly?” He asked, still not quite believing that this wasn’t just some trick. “I promise- On my honor I will not-”

  “Hush, I don’t need any of that,” she said, before looking down at the other woman who had continued to play in the water as the two had spoken. “Kitten, mind helping me get our friend aboard?”

  The woman, “Kitten” apparently, moved up and nodded, paddling over to the side of the small boat. Using a rope that had been thrown over the side she quickly climbed it, clambering up and over the railings of the ship before turning back to look at Fenris who still waded a good dozen feet away from the boat.

  “What are you waiting for?” She asked, voice chipper, “Come on!”

  Slowly Fenris began to approach, nervous. He was certain that they would reject him as soon as it became clear what he was, or else perhaps try to hurt him as those other hunters had, but still he continued towards them. What other choice did he have? He had to get to the coast, back to his home, and this seemed to be his best chance to do so.

  “Of… Course. I am coming.” He reached the rope and then raised webbed hands to it, gripping it tightly. Both Isabela and Kitten were watching him, the pirate with a smirk and the elven woman with a friendly smile that was slowly transforming into a look of confusion.

  In theory lifting himself up was easy enough- Just one hand over the other, again and again until he reached the top. But in reality…

  He huffed, and then grunted as he tried to lift himself, his tail uselessly moving under him, weighing him down.

  “Need some help?” Isabela asked, her voice far too sweet.

  “I…” He frowned, and then swallowed heavily. They would find out in the next few minutes anyway, and if they decided they didn’t like the idea of smuggling a giant fish-man it’d be easier to escape if he remained partly in the water. “I do not have… Use of my lower body the way you people do.”

  “But- I saw your swimming just now?” Kitten frowned, tilting her head to the side a little.

  There were a lot of ways he might have skirted around the issue, but none of them, ultimately, would have helped him.

  “I am a- What you would call- A mermaid.”

  “I wouldn’t call you a maid at all,” the pirate nearly purred with satisfaction and Kitten gave a little squeak of delighted surprised.

  “Really? Oh, can I see your tail? I’ve never met a mermaid before- Oh, I didn’t even realize… No wonder you were out and about swimming.”

  “I… You will see it. Once I get up this.” He was relieved beyond measure that neither of the women had reached out to cut the rope and drop him back in the water, nor were they treating him hostilely. He had not expected this response, but he could not complain either.

  “Here,” Kitten started, grasping part of the rope and waiting for Isabela to do the same before both women worked to help him overboard. It was a struggle but eventually he flopped onto the deck, struggling to sit up and move around.

  To be out of the water was… Strange at best, but also good. Though it was difficult to maneuver when he had a giant tail to drag behind him everywhere it also reminded him of his former life, before the witch had ruined him. Underneath him the boat rocked gently and he closed his eyes briefly, internally sighing. The wood of the deck was damp from where he was sitting on it and he briefly ran one hand over the railing, imagining that this was one of his ships and not some stranger’s or pirate’s.

  “Thank you,” he finally said, opening his eyes again. “I... Am Fenris,” he offered, inclining his head to the women.

   “You already know me,” Isabela replied easily, leaning back slightly in order to take him in. She had seen mers occasionally in her travels, but never this close. It was a shame about the lower half, she thought idly. She was rather intrigued by the man sitting in front of them.

  “Oh, I’m Merrill!” Fenris realized that Kitten must have been some sort of nickname, and supposed that it suited the wide-eyed woman. “Here, you’ll need help getting to- Well, I suppose mers don’t have much need for beds… Oh, a tub! We should get him in a tub, shouldn’t we Bela? I’m afraid I don’t know that much about your kind, ser, but I’m sure you have some very interesting stories…”

  Fenris sat back and let the two women talk, still feeling anxious but not as much as he had before. He knew that this did not solve all of his problems- Far from it- But it was something and, after everything that had happened to him, he would take it.

  
  
  


  They had placed her down in the dungeons and while she supposed she could complain she knew that she was only too lucky to be alive. That would only last for as long as she continued to represent the hope that the king’s son might be returned to him the same as he was when he had left the castle all those months ago, but it was something. 

  Truth be told she wasn’t sure that she was capable of it. Though she knew a great deal about the art of magical transformation it has always been very temporary- Flitting into the form of a raven in order to escape danger or shedding her skin and becoming a wolf in order to hunt and gather her meals. 

  What she had done to the prince she had thought to make temporary as well, but she had made a mistake and now she, as well as countless other people, were suffering for it.

  She hung her head, dark hair falling into her vision and obscuring it. At least, it would have obscured her vision had it not already been near pitch black in the dungeons. Instead she could feel it move against her face, greasy, and she quietly sighed.

  From far away she heard the sound of the door to the dungeons open, hinges squealing in protest. She stiffened, as she always did, a part of her thinking that her time had finally come even though it was almost always just a guard come to bring her supper, and she did not raise her head until whoever had opened the door had made their way to the enchanted bars of her cell, clearing their throat and stopping in front of them. 

  They carried with them a torch and her eyes watered as she raised her face upward, temporarily blinded by it. It was so bright in contrast to the darkness of the cells but she also did not want to look away. Twice a day light would come, accompanying the people who would bring her her meals, and it never stayed long enough.

  “Hello Little One.” It took a few long moments for her eyes to adjust but once she finally did she realized that the person on the other side of the bars was not a guard. Their fine robes told her that they were a noble of some kind, though why they would be down there she could not know.

  Weeks ago she might have made some biting remark but now she only dipped her head, too tired and sad to do much else. It would have been easier to maintain her anger, had she had something to fight against that was not cold, damp brick and pitch blackness. But that was all she had had, for weeks. The darkness and her thoughts and regrets, punctuated by bland meals and silent guards. 

  “You are the witch they call Morrigan, are you not?” There was a man standing there, alone, with silver eyes that caught her attention and did not allow her to turn away. 

  “I am,” she replied, voice hoarse from disuse. Who was she to use it on? The rats?

  “I have heard stories of your power,” the man said, and in the next instant Morrigan realized that he was like her. A witch, or, as most other people called them, mages. “...And of one of your most recent experiments.”

  She swallowed heavily, her heart heavy with regret and now fear. There had been no experiment, or at least she had not seen it that way. She had only wanted to give a man his freedom, and in doing so had ruined his life. (And, perhaps, killed him- though the king had vowed to search for him she knew it just as likely he had not survived the seas.)

  “I am most intrigued by what you were able to accomplish- Turning a man into a monster.” His eyes were hungry, not for food but for something darker, something sicker that made Morrigan’s skin crawl and stomach clench in apprehension. “I know that the king has tasked you with undoing all of your hard work, but I would ask you to reconsider.”

  Her eyes widened and it was only because she had remained curled on the floor that she did not back away. 

  Swallowing heavily she replied, “They will kill me, if I do not.” 

  “And if I said I could protect you?” His eyes seemed to gleam, like cold metal, like they were sharing some private injoke she absolutely did not want to be a part of. “Is that your only concern?”

  The pause was heavy, the silence threatening to smother her. She had the uneasy feeling that this man could, and would hurt her without much thought.

  “It is,” she lied, hoping that she was convincing enough. 

  The man nodded, seeming to be satisfied. 

  “As a token of my goodwill, I will leave this torch down here with you. When they find the boy-” He didn’t seem to be considering the fact that they might never see Fenris again or that he might be dead, “-I will arrange it so that you will be safe… And he will be mine.”

_ No,  _ she thought, even as she nodded. 

  As promised the man passed the torch through the bars to give to her and Morrigan took it, careful not to let her hand touch his.

  Without another word he turned and began striding away, only to stop when Morrigan rushed to the bars and called out, “Who are you?”

  He did not bother to turned back to her as he spoke. 

  “A friend.”

_ No _ , she thought again.


	16. The Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slowly but steadily Anders and Fenris' paths continue to move towards the point at which they will intersect again.

  “Try holding the knife more by the center- Let yourself feel the balance and-” 

_ Thwack. _

__ “Oh dear, Brand are you alright?”

  Fenris looked up from where he’d been sitting at the rails, long tail hanging down and catching most of the sea spray, to see Casavir, Isabela’s first-mate, consoling Merrill who had nearly killed Brand in her attempts to learn how to throw daggers. 

   Casavir had been trying to teach her for hours, with very little success, and now that Brand was rounding on them, shouting about how irresponsible they were, Fenris suspected that their lessons were finally coming to a close. It had been painful to watch the woman try to learn but there were times, such as now, that it had also been ridiculously entertaining.

  Suddenly two thick thighs, just barely covered by a dress, appeared in front of him and he looked up to see Isabela with a lazy smile on her face. 

  “So,” she started, “You’ve been here for a few days now.” She leaned ever so casually against the railing as she spoke but they both knew that she was here to interrogate him. 

  “I am grateful that you took me in. I will not forget what you have done.” He replied, voice level.

  “Not often I pick up a mer who wants to get onto dry land.” She looked down at his tail with a raised eyebrow, “Honestly I think I’d pay to see you try and get around like that.”

_ Not for long if I have my way,  _ Fenris thought silently to himself, though the pirate had a good point. Still, he did not feel like it was safe to divulge his secrets. The pirate had been more kind and understanding than he could have dreamed of, but that did not mean that she had his best interests at heart. 

  “You are an accomplished smuggler,” he said, a statement of fact. Now that he had the chance there were some things he wanted to speak with her about and he had decided that now was as good as ever. Though she seemed friendly enough in their conversations, what few they had had, it had actually been rather difficult to find the captain when she did not want to be found. He had decided that complimenting her seemed like the best way to begin, and based on the way that her mouth quirked up into a smile he had been right. 

  “Among other things,” she replied, tone sultry. He shied away from it mentally, even as he had slowly begun to realize that it was simply her way of speaking and that she meant little with her flirtations. 

  “Do you think you could smuggle me into a building? One that was highly protected?” It was perhaps the heat or the sun rising high overhead but Fenris could feel sweat begin to form at the back of his neck and slide, cold and unpleasant, down his back.

  “Are we talking a prison? Some nobleman’s estate?” At this point Isabela was more concerned about seeing where this all ended than with payment though, rest assured, she was going to get both somehow. 

  “A… Castle,” Fenris replied and somehow Isabela’s eyebrows managed to rise even higher. There was a long moment of silence in which Fenris could almost  _hear_ the ropes and pulleys of Isabela's mind working furiously before she spoke again.

  “Let me guess, not just any castle but  _ the  _ castle? The one that houses the royal family? Rocca Margarie or something?”

  “Rocca Maggiore,” Fenris corrected, the lilting tones of his voice catching Isabela’s ears. 

  Mysteries abounded with this one, apparently.

  “Of course,” she finally said, “Give me something to smuggle, a place to smuggle to, and I’m your girl.” She nodded, more for herself than for him. This was turning out to be more than a little crazy and she could already feel the way her heart thumped pleasantly at the challenge that had presented itself. 

  A few seconds of silence, during which Casavir and Brand had begun to argue and Merrill was, unsuccessfully, trying to act as mediator, passed before Isabela picked up her questioning again. 

  “So… The castle. You get in, then what are you going to do?”

  Fenris wasn’t convinced that the witch would be there- Knew it was extremely unlikely in fact, but- He thought of his family, thought of how they would react if, or perhaps when, they saw him like this. The thought made him want to slip back into the ocean and disappear but instead his grip around the wooden railings tightened. There was no life for him there, especially without... 

  Isabela watched as the mer swallowed, staring off into the distance. She had watched as he brooded on and off for the past few days but he had given up very little. He was polite enough, and oddly cultured for a creature she had pulled out of the ocean, but taciturn all the same. 

  “I am to meet a woman.”

  “Ooh, a past lover?”

  “Not quite,” his voice had taken on a steely quality, of barely restrained fury.

  “Are you absolutely sure? There’s a special kind of anger that comes with ex-lovers and you, my friend, are a little bundle of rage.” He shot her a look and Isabela chuckled. She’d always been one for poking at things that others knew better than to. “A  _ tight  _ little bundle of rage.”

  He snorted then, crossing his arms over his chest and staring out onto the sea as the ship cut through the water cleanly. According to the pirate they were a scant two, perhaps three days from making land. 

  “...I would see if you could sneak me into the Queen’s private chambers.”

  Isabela stared at him  for a second but then recovered herself. Oh, this was just getting better and better. 

  “That’s the woman? The bloody Queen of-”

  “No. But I believe if I am able to get there that I will meet the woman I am seeking.”

  “Right.” Isabela stared at him for a moment longer before folding her arms in front of her chest and staring up at the sky, as if seeking divine guidance. From what little Fenris knew of her however, this was unlikely to be the case. 

  “You’re asking an awful lot, you do know that, don’t you?” Her tone was glib, but he knew better than to take most of what she said at face value.

  Fenris looked up at her, frowning slightly and knowing that what she said was true. Still…

  “I will understand if you change your mind.”

  “Oh no, I’m going to get you to where you need to go-” She replied with a chuckle, “-And will, of course, look forward to being handsomely rewarded when all of it is said and done.”

  Finally she turned to look at him, giving him a crooked smile that he returned with one of his own. It shouldn’t have been easy to trust a woman who insisted so strongly that she was only out for herself, but it was somehow easier to swallow than someone who claimed to be helping him out of pure altruism. 

  “As you will be.”

   Satisfied that their conversation was over Isabela looked away from him again, idly observing the goings-on of the ship as she began to work out the problem of how she was going to sneak him into... The Queen's bedchambers. Already a plan was forming in her mind as to how she would sneak him in- And what she would do with the gold once she had it in hand.

  
  
  


  They had moved him not to a dungeon as he had expected but to his own private quarters, which was laughable given that he was still stuck in a glass box that was barely wide enough to hold his body, let alone let him turn around or swim. Twice a day he was fed, fresh fish, and the water in his cage changed out. (This, in and of itself, was a painful process that required him to be moved into a bath and then back into the cage, but he supposed it was better than being forced to live in stagnant water made further disgusting by his own waste.) His collar had also been removed, though it did little to help him feel like less of an animal, especially as he remained in this… Cage.

  A cage. He’d heard of these things, though nets had always been more terrifying for a young mer. His parents would warn him against playing in the wreckage of ships, lest he get trapped in one of these, but he had always brushed them off as just things parents said. 

  And now he sat in one, waiting to die.

  It was not entirely clear to him why the king had decided to keep him. He had not asked Anders any more questions about Fenris ( _ his son _ , Anders was still having trouble swallowing that) and neither had any of the servants who visited him. Mostly they just stared at him, wide-eyed and terrified, and finished their tasks as quickly as possible before leaving, whispering amongst themselves and staring at him as if he were a monster.

  To these people he was, he supposed. The irony of it- That the ones who would hunt his people and imprison him like this thought that  _ he  _ was the monster- did not so much as bring a smile to his face.

  His magic had slowly come back, but it was of very little use to him. He could freeze or boil the water of his cage, break the glass and kill the servants who came for him- But to what end? All would end in his death.

  If he had thought he had known despair before he had been wrong. The sorrow he had experienced after losing his family or Karl or Fenris was nothing compared to this. Living in a cage so small he could barely turn around, his only contact with those fucking  _ land dwellers  _ and no one else. 

  Shortly after he had been placed in the room his cage had been turned to look out the window so that he might be able to see the ocean. Likely a mark of respect, that he was allowed such a gorgeous view. He could have laughed, but instead he had wept. 

  The sea. She was so far away, lying before him, glinting in the sun. He wondered if he would ever return, or if he would die in captivity. 

  And then, one long, lonely day, the girl came.

 

  She could not have been much older than a child, though Anders did not know if the people here aged the way that he and other mers did underwater. She was dressed like all of the other ladies here, what few he had seen, and her posture and expression suggested that she was either older than she looked or trying to act it.

  It was clear that she also had not been prepared to see him- When she fully stumbled into the room and saw him she gasped, and very nearly backed out of the door, gripping the frame of it as she gawked at him. 

  “I-” she started and Anders sighed, closing his eyes. He didn’t much care what these land dwellers thought of him, but he’d be lying if he tried to say that their constantly viewing him as some kind of monster didn’t both depress and enrage him. At this point, however, he was more fatigued by it than anything else. She was not the first person to react this way to him, and he doubted she be the last.

  When the door clicked shut he opened his eyes again, expecting her to be gone, only to see her leaning against the door, breathing heavily and staring at him.

  “If someone comes in here please don’t tell them you saw-” distantly he thought he could hear yelling and the pounding of feet and raised both eyebrows when the girl sprinted from the door to the bed and then hastily scrambled under it to hide.

_...Okay? _

  Before he could give much more thought to the strange request the door burst open again, a woman in fine clothing and what looked like a guard stumbling inside. Both froze when they saw Anders and he stared at them blankly. 

  It was the woman in fine clothing, much to her credit, who was the one to speak up:

  “Have… You seen… A girl? Red hair- Green eyes?” She spoke slowly, as if he were simple and he frowned in response before shaking his head slowly. Likely he should have given up the girl now hiding under the bed but he did not feel particularly charitable towards any of these people.

  The woman frowned in response, her eyes giving a quick scan of the room before nodding and turning back to the guard. “Perhaps the gardens?” she murmured in a quick, low voice before turning and exiting the room with him, pulling the door shut.

  There was silence then until, from under the bed, came the sound of rustling cloth and the girl popped up, looking slightly dusty and  _ very  _ relieved.

  “Thank you,” she breathed, looking at him and then quickly away. “I- I know you didn’t have to, so…”

  “Why were those people chasing you?” Though he hated himself for it Anders could not stop the rush of delight that coursed through him over the fact that he was finally talking to someone after so many days of limited contact. 

  “I-” The girl bit her lip and then looked away, awkwardly tugging at her hands. For a moment she was quiet under she finally seemed to work up the courage to speak. “I have it. The curse.” Tears welled up in her eyes at the thought but she quickly blinked them away. Her mind was still whirling with thoughts about what she would do now, what would happen if ( _ when _ ) the nursemaids and guards caught her.

  “The curse?” The creature in front of her asked, sounding oddly kind despite his appearance. 

  “You know-” She looked up at him briefly in consideration and then frowned. “Perhaps you don’t. The curse is… Magic. I was in the my rooms, working on my stitches and I-” She was looking down at her feet again, shamefaced. “They were just being so frustrating- And I… I set it on fire, on accident.”

  Oh land dwellers, he thought. If there was a more terrible group of people he would be sorry to know them.

  “Little one,” he said, “Listen to me closely.” His heart was burning with righteous indignation for her, for although she belonged to the people who had done this to him, it was clear that in many ways she was like him too. Shunned, for things that she could have had no control over.

  She looked up at him with large, watery green eyes and for a moment he was struck by how much her face reminded him of Fenris’. It was silly of course, and probably just a sign that he’d been stuck in his cage with little contact with the outside world for far too long, most of his thoughts consumed by his lover and what might have happened to him. Shaking his head slightly he brought himself back to the present, and spoke.

  “You are not cursed, despite what anyone else might tell you. Magic is a  _ gift  _ given to us by our gods, and the only reason that people fear it is because they do not understand it and wish to control it. They will wish to control you as well, but you cannot let them.”

  He looked at her then, eyes burning, “Do you understand what I am saying?”

  The tears in her eyes had dried up, and she looked at him with a mixture of wonder and fear, as if she had never heard such things before. Likely she hadn’t, and Anders could not stop the burst of anger in his heart that came from having to be the one to tell her these things. 

  “People like us should not be reviled- We are like anyone else, and it is a mark of shame on  _ others  _ that they view us like we’re…” He frowned and the muttered, “Monsters.”

  Varania blinked, startled, and then looked to his hands, as if she could see the magic forming there. 

  “You’re like me? A- A mage?” She still wasn’t sure that she believed the man (whatever his lower half might be he was that) but his words had brought her comfort and helped ease some of her fears. 

  “That’s not what they call us where I am from, but yes, I am,” he now wore a gentle smile on his face and his eyes were soft, crinkled at the corners as he looked at her. 

  “You could teach me to hide them then? My… Abilities?” Something about what she said seemed to upset the other man but he very quickly hid it under another smile. 

  “I… Yes, I could. Come to me, when you can, and I will teach you to control them.” Internally Anders cringed at the idea that she would hide them, as if they were something shameful, but if the land dwellers truly saw them as a curse he could understand why she would feel that way. Perhaps, through their lessons, he might be able to change her mind, to make her understand that she had nothing to be scared of.

  “Thank you,” she breathed and then after a moment turned towards the door. Uncertainly she began, “I should leave… They’ll still be looking for me and the longer I’m gone-”

  “Go,” he said, giving her another smile, “You know where to find me if you have any questions.”

  Varania gave him a solemn nod and then turned, opening the door and ducking out of it quickly, leaving him. 

  Anders settled back in the tank, as much as he could settle back, looking at the door and thinking. The girl was very young, but obviously someone of status here and while he intended to help her he wondered if she might be able to help him as well. 

  With difficulty he turned his body in the cage in order to look back out the window and to the ocean. He had purposefully turned himself away, not wanting to tease himself with something he couldn’t have, but not he used it to give him strength. 

  He had no idea if the girl could help him- Or even how she could- But he refused to believe now that hope had entirely been lost. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come prompt and yell at me at laurpas.tumblr.com


	17. The Returned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter felt kind of rushed, for which I hope you'll forgive me. 
> 
> Also, just so you know, plotting out how to get not one, but *two* mermaids onto dry land without them having legs is ridiculous, so please forgive the silliness of Fenris being smuggled via a rug.

  When Isabela had asked him how long he thought he could survive being out of the water he had donned a fierce frown and replied, “As long as I must.” They had docked the ship at that point and Isabela, along with several of her crewmates, had spent a good day planning out how they were going to get Fenris to where he was going.

  ‘As long as I must’ had turned into a very long time, and as Fenris lay quietly rolled up in the rug that Isabela had chosen for the endeavor, he could not help but wonder if he had perhaps overestimated just how much he could stand.

  There was a part of him that remembered what it was like to live on land- How solid the earth felt, how reassuring. But the body he possessed was different now and, though he hid it well, being outside of the water was uncomfortable at best and downright painful at first. He promised himself that it was all be worth it- That this pain would be nothing in comparison to finally having his life back, but as the hours trickle by he began to wonder.

  Would his mother kill him? Would she even recognize him?

  They had decided that not only would they figure out how to smuggle him into the Queen’s suite of rooms but that they were going to get him to her bathing room as well. There was a bathtub there that he could stay safely in without fear of further drying out.

  As he was now doing.

  He grunted as the people carrying the rug resettled the weight of him and the fibers of the rug scraped against his skin and scales, now itchy and uncomfortable from being out of the water for so long. He reminded himself that it had just been a few hours but the thought no longer brought him comfort. If this was how he was after a few hours then how was he supposed to survive the trip to his mother’s rooms?

  They came to a stop suddenly and his ears strained to hear what was being discussed. He could hear Isabela at the front talking to something, voice oozing with flirtatious charm. She had already used this tactic to get past several guards and, while Fenris appreciated it now, he was going to have to have a serious discussion with the Captain of the Guard after all of this was said and done.

  “There was no delivery scheduled here- I’m afraid that I cannot let you pass.”

  “Oh, I’m sure if you just recheck with your superiors…” Isabela’s voice had dropped another note and Fenris could just envision her in his mind’s eye, bent forward slightly, arms moved to made her breasts look as large and tantalizing as possible. She had changed her dress into something slightly more respectable than she usually wore but only slightly.

  “I am sorry but I cannot. I can escort you to the majordomo to resolve this matter, but otherwise I have no choice but to turn you away.”

  “Oh, but this rug is very expensive and it’s very important we get it to its destination without damaging it. Aren’t you worried the Queen will be angry if that happens? This was specially commissioned by her…”

  “I am sorry, ma’am, but the Queen would be far more angry if I let someone into her bedchambers that was not supposed to be there, as I am sure you can imagine.”

  There was a soft sigh on Isabela’s part and Fenris swore he could hear Brand, one of the people tasked with carrying the rug, grunt and then shift his weight slightly. Sweat began to drip down his forehead and he forced himself to keep his breathing calm and relaxed. Isabela had promised that she would get him where he needed to go, and if even some of the stories about her were true then he should have had nothing to fear. But-

  “Casavir, grab the front,” he heard Isabela order, tone no longer seductive as it had been before, and he found himself awkwardly gripping at the sides of the rug as it suddenly shifted dramatically. He could almost hear Isabela step forward, could almost see it in his mind’s eye, and before he could say anything he heard a thud and then the heavy sound of an armored person crashing to the floor.

  “Run-” What had been a relatively smooth journey before now turned into a jostling nightmare as Isabela, Brand, Casavir, Merrill and their cargo began to move quickly, trying to get away from the fallen guard and the attention it would inevitably attract.

 “Take the right hallway, that should lead to the passageway that-” Between the violent movements of the rug and the shouting that had started up behind them Fenris was having trouble keeping up, mentally, with where they were going. He had gone over the layout of the castle and the best way to get into the Queen’s chambers several times with everyone, and he could only hope that they remember everything he had tried to teach him.

  (And hadn’t that been a topic of speculation amongst the crew- How some fish from the ocean could know anything about Rocca Maggiore. But Fenris had not been willing to enlighten him and every time someone even so much as looked at him with a questioning gaze he would return it was a glare. No one ever did get around to asking him.)

  “Stop immediately!” He heard the shouted voice of the Guard Captain and felt his heart sink. He needed to get into his mother’s chamber, but he didn’t want anything to happen to Aveline in order for that to happen.

  “Isabela-” he tried to call out from inside the rug but knew that no one could hear him.

  He did not want to do this- But he had to.

  He began to struggle then, trying to thrash within the confines of the rug. Brand and Casavir both let out curses and he could almost see the look of shock on Isabela’s face.

  “What are you doing-”

  “Shit-”

  Brand and Casavir dropped the rug and he grunted as he fell to the floor, silence suddenly falling over hall.

  “Smuggling an assassin into Her Majesty’s chambers are we?” He could hear the heavy clank of Aveline’s boots as she began to approach and Isabela cursing under her breath. “That’s a hanging offense I’ll have you know.”

  “Mm, you’d have to catch me in order to hang me first-” Fenris knew that she would not allow herself to be taken without a fight, and he knew just how deadly she be when she was cornered.

  “Isabela, no!”

  Apparently they could hear him, or perhaps just muffled shouting, because the clanking stopped and he heard Isabela muttering, “Not enough gold for this.”

  Suddenly the clanking started up against and he heard the sound of a blade being unsheathed. Before he could say or doing anything he felt the bindings on the being cut and he was being unrolled out of the carpet of the hall.

  Squinting, eyes watery, at the sudden exposure to light he barely had time to register the familiar face of Aveline Vallen before the hall broke out into chaos, people shouting about how there was a monster in the hall and someone was trying to kill the Queen. Aveline’s voice soon joined the fray and he watched as Isabela and her team used the chaos to quickly escape, Merrill throwing one last, worried look over her shoulder at him before Brand grasped her arm and tugged her after them.

  He met her eyes and gave her a weak little wave- They had been far too kind to him, done far too much for him, and he did not want to be the reason that they were captured and imprisoned.

  Once they were out of sight he closed his eyes, feeling the rough carpet beneath his back, wondering what would happen to him now. He had never truly had a clear plan on what he was going to do once he returned home- Only that something inside of him had told him that it was the right choice. He didn’t know if that was true and as he heard the clanking of multiple armored persons approaching him he could not help but wonder if he had made a grave mistake of coming here.

   _Where else would you has gone? Back to the sea? Back to Anders? You do not belong there, in this mess of a body, and if he knew anything he would not have forgiven you anyway._

When he opened his eyes again it was to see Aveline standing over him, squinting her eyes, only for them to widen and for her to blanch.

  “P-Prince?”

  He gave her a grimaced half-smile and nodded.

  “Water,” he said, “Would be most appreciated, my good knight.”

  


  How she managed to keep escaping Anders did not know, but every time the little slip of a girl snuck into his room he could not, and did not try to, suppress the smile that came over his face. Often she came to him in the middle of the night, when the hallways were likely to be near empty and her nursemaid, apparently even a girl of her age had one, was sleeping.

  She was a smart thing, his little student, and though they had only had a few days she was already making the kind of progress that had taken him weeks to achieve.

  Varania was her name- He thought it was lovely and suited her well- but otherwise they shared very little personal information about themselves. She seemed hesitant to do so and, in any case, was much more concerned about how she could learn to control or suppress her magic.

  Slowly he had tried to talk to her about this, trying to coax her into seeing his side of things. He was always subtle and gentle- he had the feeling that she would not appreciate him raving about the sins of the land dwellers and how backwards their approach to magic was.

  Unfortunately for her, she had absolutely no skill when it came to healing magic. The skill, he had been told, was rare and so he let it drop. There was so much to teach her, and so little time, that he could not honestly say that he missed it.

  On the eighth day of their lessons, as Varania was sitting before him, tired and her mana drained from another long few hours spent trying to master some of the more primal parts of her magic, he finally brought up the topic that had been running through his head ever since they had first crossed paths.

  Escape.

  “Varania,” he said, using that gentle, teacherly voice he had adopted with her and that she seemed to respond best to. “You know the layout of the castle well, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she replied, “I grew up here and- Well, when I was younger my brother used to help me explore it.”

  She’d spoken about her brother a handful of times since she had started to visit him and, though she had not given him many details, Anders suspected that there was something about it that made her very sad. She spoke about him in the present tense, and yet…

  “That sounds like it was very nice.”

  “He was always-” She smiled and then Anders watched as it turned sad. “I- We used to play together all the time as children. I was just his little sister, but still he managed to find time for him. We would go out into the gardens and play ball or…” She trailed off, looking at her fingers and in the hazy moonlight Anders thought he saw her eyes shine with unshed tears.

  “He sounds wonderful,” he said, wishing he could reach beyond the glass to put a hand on her shoulder in order to comfort her. But he remained trapped, useless in his cage. “I never had any siblings but I- I imagine it is nice to have.”

  “Yeah,” Varania replied, sullen, “It… Is.” Not _was_ , Anders noted, and the choice seemed more deliberate than usual. Still, it wasn’t his place to ask and he had the feeling it would only make her sad to ask about it.

  “So, the castle- You’ve explored much of it?” The change in topic seemed to help her, as Varania perked back up and gave him a little smile that was strangely familiar, even if he could not have said where it was from.

  “Oh yes. I know most of it, including some places that even the other adults don’t know.”

  “That’s quite impressive,” he replied, chuckling. “Have you ever been outside of the palace?”

  “Once or twice. Once with my mother and once…” She gave him a sly look, and then continued, “Once I snuck out- My mother had decided that I wouldn’t be allowed to leave again and I just- Well, I had to. They were so angry when they found me but it was so worth it.”

  Anders laughed, even as an inner part of him cheered. He hadn’t the slightest clue as to how this thirteen year old girl could help him escape but perhaps she could convince another adult to help them?

  “And how did you manage that little one?”

  “Well, there was this cart from this merchant that had stopped by- He’d sold many of his goods to us, I think it was to us, and I thought, well, I thought I could just stowaway and perhaps escape for a few hours.” She giggled, hiding her smile behind a small hand, “It was very bumpy and uncomfortable and eventually I was caught but even then…” She sighed wistfully and Anders felt a part of himself ache for her.

  She was obviously the daughter of a noble and, though the bars of her cage were gilded they were there, trapping her.

  “Varania,” he said suddenly, and she looked up at him, all trusting naivete. It hurt him, both his pride and his soul, to use her like this, but he told himself he had no other choice. He had to escape- He could not continue to live the rest of his life like this, trapped in a little cell, the ocean a distant memory. “Do you think you could help me with something? Something very, very important?”

  “Of course! What do you need help with?”

  He grit his teeth for just a moment before continuing. “Varania, you know that it isn’t right that I’m here- Don’t you?”

  She blinked at him and opened her mouth as if to respond before she stopped and looked at him. Though she had initially been wary of him, the mermaid in the little room, or Ser Anders as she knew him, he seemed like such a kind, gentle man. No matter how many times she had failed when he tried to teach her something, still he had remained patient. He had very strong opinions and it was obvious he struggled to keep them in check but he was nice. (He was also, she thought, a bit patronizing, but it wasn’t the worst trait she had ever come across in an adult.)

  “Yees?” She asked, as if uncertain of which was the right answer. “You… I mean, you come from the sea right?”

  His eyes tightened, as if he were in pain and he nodded. “Yes, the sea is my home. It’s where I am from and it’s where I belong. Not in… Not here.”

  She nodded solemnly, not quite following where he was going, but decided that she would listen to him. He had, after all, listened to her whenever she had talked about her brother.

  “Would you help me get home?” He asked, hating his desperation, the fact that he was putting this burden on a _child_ of all people. “I- Is there another adult you know, one who will perhaps help us?”

  Varania stared at him, not fully understanding the weight of what he was asking for but having decided that she would do all she could to help him. Had it not been for him she might have had another ‘accident’ and her nursemaid would have then been forced to tell her parents about her curse.

  “I- Oh, I know someone,” she thought suddenly. “He can help you, I’m certain of it.”

  Anders wasn’t sure if the girl really knew someone who had the ability to smuggle a person, let alone someone like him, but perhaps this other adult that she would thinking of would know something. It was worth a shot, anyway.

  “Thank you, Varania,” he said instead, “If you can bring him to your next lesson- Come at night, to make it less likely that we will be caught.”

  “Of course Ser Anders,” she nodded, heart suddenly bursting with pride at the naked gratitude on Anders’ face. To think, that another adult was trusting her, and that she might actually be able to help them.

  “It’s just Anders,” he replied with a chuckle, looking more relaxed and, strangely, younger to Varania. “But thank you. Now go on- You have trained enough for tonight and you need your rest.”

  Varania nodded and moved up from her chair. She stepped up to the glass and stopped in front of it, frowning briefly before finally nodding to Anders. She could not hug him now but once he was free she would make a point to do so.

  
  


  They’d found the largest bathing tub they could find and then hauled him into it, filling it to the brim with water and then, blessedly, leaving him alone. As much as he hated himself for it he was grateful- He’d spent far too much time outside of water and as a result his skin had become terribly dry, the skin cracking in places from it and bleeding slightly. He sank into the water, finally having a moment to think after all the chaos and closed his eyes.

  They would tell his parents of course, and then his parents would come to see him, of course. He wasn’t ready, but then, how could he be? He was…

  He swallowed hard, trying to pull his tail further into the bathing tub with him, to curl in on himself. Fenris didn’t want to think about how he looked, how his parents would react when they saw him. He had done his best to return because that was the right thing to do, but would they even want him back? And if he could not find the witch, if she could not change him back…

  There was the sound of bustling and then loud voices down the hall from his door. He opened his eyes, gripping the edge of the tub in his tension. They were getting louder, clearly approaching, and suddenly he would have done anything to have legs again, to be able to leave, to escape.

  Voices outside the door, but they were no longer quite so loud. The guard that Aveline had posted in front of the room he had been placed in spoke quickly, quietly, and then the door was opening and his mother and father were moving inside, slamming the door shut behind them.

  He expected gasps of shock, for his parents to stop just short of touching him, for them to stand apart from him-

  But instead they rushed forward, his mother crying, his father, no, he could not quite believe that his father’s eyes seemed wet and red rimmed, _that_ was simply too much, and embraced him. They formed a protective cage around him with their arms, both of their heads above him, making him feel very small and protected.

   _This is it,_ he thought, _this is why…_ He’d come back, because of his duties, to find the witch who’d done this to him, and because of the grief he knew he had been causing his parents. But he had also…

   He had missed his family. His parents. Despite his shame over his deformities he could not help but wish Varania were here as well, that he might see her and beg her forgiveness.

  “Mother, Father,” he swallowed heavily, not knowing what to say, and so instead chose silence.

  “Fenris,” his mother replied, her voice watery. “We are… Maker we are so relieved… We thought…”

  “You’re home now though,” his father continued in a hushed, even reverent tone. It had been weeks since he had last seen his son and he had begun to think…

  Fenris looked up at his father, and swallowed at what he saw in his face. He had expected anger, shame, disgust, but he saw none of those. His father reached down to move his hand through Fenris’ hair, seeing that it was different now, but appearing to love him no less.

  His father knew that the witch was waiting for them, down in the dungeons, and in a few minutes he would tell Fenris this. But for a little while, just a little while, he wished to hold his son, to bask in the incredible good fortune that he had been given a son not once, but twice now. The first time, when he had been born, and the second, when he had been returned to him.

  

 


	18. The Ritual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy, I was being really good at updating wasn't I?   
> Chapter 19 is... Writtenish, so hopefully it won't take too long, but until school is over in a few weeks updates will probably be sparse for which I apologize, and would like to thank everyone who's continued on in reading this.

  There was the sound of crashing feet, several of them, moving towards her, and then Morrigan was springing up from her sitting position, backing away from the front of the cell until her back hit the wall and she could move no more, suddenly terrified. 

  Had they finally come to kill her? She swallowed heavily and, though she hated herself for it, could feel her legs and arms faintly trembling. She wanted to face her death with dignity, with bravery, but after weeks of living in a dank, stinking cell she was unable to find the strength to do so. It had simply been too eroded to be of any use to her.

  “Witch,” it was a guard who spoke, holding a heavy key ring in front of him as he began to flip through it for the one that would release her. “You have been summoned by the king.”

_ Please _ , she thought, but just closed her eyes and nodded, balling her hands into fists. She didn’t understand why the king would bother to see her if she was just going to be executed but perhaps the bastard just wanted to watch her as it happened. 

  More than once Morrigan had thought of begging for her freedom- Of trying to explain that she had not meant any harm by what she had done to the prince- But she knew that it would be pointless and, furthermore, that she had done harm, and that she deserved to be punished in some regard

  And she would not beg. She was the daughter of Flemeth, a Witch of the Wilds, and no matter what, she would not beg. Not for release and certainly not for mercy from whatever fate had now been decided for her. 

  There was a heavy clang as the cell door was unlocked and then swung open and one of the guards stepped forward. 

  “Hands,” he said, and Morrigan did as she was asked, presenting her hands and allowing them to be manacled together. She grimaced and shivered slightly as the device turned her hands numb but otherwise she did not move or say anything. They had very purposefully chosen not to feed her magebane but there were, of course, other ways of controlling her magic so that she would comply with them.

  Without another word they began to move, tugging her when she moved too slowly. It was strange and more than a little nerve wracking to be moving like this, after weeks of having only a small cage to move around in, nor was she prepared for the light when she was finally dragged up the stairs and out of the dungeons, into the castle proper.

  She winced, her eyelids fluttering shut as she tried to protect her sensitive eyes, only for the guard in front of her to growl, “Come witch,” and tug her forward harder. Grunting she made herself move, opening her eyes as much as she could before the pain and sensitivity became too much.

  There was so much to take in, so much color and light and softness that she had missed while imprisoned- But it was difficult to take it all in, like trying to gorge herself after she had spent years starving. She mourned that she did not have more time simply to look, but tried to comfort herself with the knowledge that her last sights would likely be of the beautiful architecture of the palace.

    _Trees, green and comforting towering over, flowers first in blossom,_ unbidden she thought of the little swamp she had grown up in, thought of how very far away from it she was now. It had been beautiful too, in its own way, even if few besides her could see it.

  “They want her in one of the smaller rooms- Not the Great Hall,” the voice of one of the other guards, not the one holding her, broke her from her reverie and she looked up at them, frowning. Perhaps her execution was not to be so public then, or perhaps… 

  No. It was too fantastical of a possibility- That the prince might be alive, that they might have dragged her out of the dungeon so that she could do as she had promised and fix him.  _ After which they will most certainly kill you…  _ No, they were taking her to kill her. She was certain of it.

  For several minutes they walked, down twisting hallways and up winding stairs. She wondered if they were purposefully trying to disorient her, or perhaps the castle was built that strangely. Finally they arrived at a door, beyond which she could hear shouting and then silence. The guards exchanged looks and then finally one knocked on the door before announcing that they had brought the witch with them.

  It was flung open almost immediately by a red-faced, harried looking man who quickly gestured for them to enter. Because of the guards’ height and their armor it was difficult for Morrigan to see anything else in the room but she could hear people arguing amongst themselves about…

  She gasped as she was pulled forward and the guards separated, allowing her to take in the sight before her- Several angry looking people surrounding a large bathtub full of water and, lying within it, the prince. Much of his heavy blue tail hung over the side but he seemed to have tried to work the rest of himself completely under the water, save for his head. Morbidly fascinated she watched as his gills moved in time with the rise of his chest- A creature of the sea through and through.

  And then his eyes locked onto her.

  “ _YOU_.”

  The shouting started again then, as Fenris tried to vault himself out of the tub and towards the witch, the fucking woman who had done this to him, the one whose heart he would rip out of her chest if he had to do it himself. Beside him his parents and Aveline moved to restrain him, yelling at him to stop, his mother still weeping slightly. 

  Morrigan flinched away, cringing as the man’s heavy tail smacked against the tub, causing a small crack to appear and he continued to struggle against the  _ three  _ people, one of them in full armor, holding him down.

  “She’s going to fix you!” She heard someone, she identified it as the king shout, “Stop this! Stop struggling!”

  “I am going to  _ kill  _ her,” was Fenris’ snarled reply but after a few more moments of struggle he stopped, slumping back against the porcelain tub and shooting her a glare that froze her in her tracks.

  “Yes, yes,” the king replied, breathing heavily from exertion, “But first you are going to let her undo this curse.” 

  Fenris made a noncommittal grunt but forced himself further down into the water, his parents and Aveline still each keeping a wary eye on him, lest he try to go for the witch again.

  This was everything that he had hoped and planned for, that he might somehow figure out a way to find the woman that had done this to him and then get her to heal him. He had just… Not quite anticipated the rage that would take a hold of him once he saw the woman again.

  She was as he remembered- All dark hair and golden eyes that glinted like a cats, almost unnaturally. She was also much paler and thinner than before but he did not give much thought to this. 

  Briefly he watched his father as he rose, the front of him soaked from his attempts to hold Fenris down, and approached the witch, a heavy frown on his face. 

  “You made me a promise,” he said, and Morrigan forced herself to look him in the eye though everything inside of her was yelling at her to run, as fast and as far away she could. “I would spare you, and you would cure my son of his affliction- The curse that  _ you  _ put on him.”

  Morrigan nodded, not knowing what else to do. 

  “And you will uphold that promise?”

  Briefly she spared Fenris a glance and without thinking replied, “If  _ he  _ will allow it.”

  The king’s face darkened, apparently not finding her very amusing and said, “He will.” He gave the guards a look and one stepped forward and unlocked the manacles from her hands.

  The magic flowing back into them left her hands feeling prickly and uncomfortable and she winced as she rubbed feeling back into them, briefly conjuring flame and then ice, as if to prove to herself that her abilities had truly been returned. 

  There was complete silence in the room then as she turned to look at Fenris and inhaled deeply, exhaling noisily. 

  “I must have your complete cooperation,” she said, speaking to him and only him. The others could observe, if they so wished, but they no longer held any consideration for her, not at this moment. “I cannot perform my magic worried that at some point you will attempt to kill me.” 

  Fenris growled, but finally inclined his head to her. “You are lucky I wish to be free of this body so badly.” To be unmutilated, to be  _ whole  _ again. “I will do as you ask, whatever you require.”

  “Good,” she said, nodding, this time it seemed more to herself than to him. “I… Will need you out of tub- I- It will be difficult if you are not. But first I need to prepare.”

  “You did little preparation when you first did this to me.”

  “...Shapeshifting magic tis something that I am very familiar with.” Shapeshifting magic that was temporary, in any case. But she had not thought to make this permanent, and to undo it… “But I would like every opportunity to get this right, this time.”

  Fenris grunted and Morrigan could feel the eyes of all in the room on her. Taking a deep breath she continued, “I will need lyrium, ink and… A few moments.”

 

  Fenris closed his eyes, trying not to twitch as he felt the witch’s hands moved over him. Unbidden he thought of Anders, of his hands, rough and calloused but gentle, healing him, undoing some, but not all of the damage that the other woman had done. He thought of Anders’ hand on his shoulder, the brush of a thumb over the back of Fenris’ hand, of how comfortable, how good it had felt.

_ This is it- Once I am back, once I have legs again I can never…  _ He had tried hard not to think on it, having already made up his mind. The ocean was no place for him, not in the form that he was in. What they had had between them had been beautiful, but not meant to last.

   No matter how much he might have wished otherwise.

   No matter that he'd- He'd loved him. Loved him, and ached for the fact that there was no other way. Anders did not belong on land and Fenris did not belong in the ses and, whatever else it was clear that  _they_ did not belong together. 

  He could feel the power coalescing in the witch’s hand and he balled his hands into fists, trying not to flinch. He remembered the pain from before, how it had been unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Though he did not voice his concerns he expected it to be much the same this time- It would be worth it, he told himself, but still he tensed in anticipation of what was to come.

  The witch’s magic moved like the roots of a plant, tendrils gingerly moving around him. He grunted, the discomfort already beginning to make itself known, particularly along his markings on his skin. His eyes squeezed shut even tighter and he tried to remember how to breathe, tried to be brave.

  The glyphs that had been painted on the floor in ink beneath him suddenly began to glow and he hissed as he felt them come alive at his back and under his tail. They burned first, then turned cold, and he shook as the witch’s magic joined them. He thought of begging her to render him unconscious, to not make him live through this again, but he only bit his lip harder, tasting iron and salt. 

  His markings began to glow first but the rest of his body soon followed after, the small room beginning to fill with light. Everyone except for Morrigan backed away in fear, the king and queen exchanging worried glances with each other. They wanted their son back in his original form, but not at the risk of his own life.

  Morrigan furrowed her eyebrows, her hands beginning to move over Fenris’ pelvis and legs, whispering foreign sounding words under her breath. Sweat dripped down her forehead, pooled at her lower back and behind her knees, but she noticed none of it. All she heard, all she could feel was the magic. 

  It swirled around her, flowing through her hands like water as she poured it into the body in front of her. She moved it with practiced hands, manipulating the energy to do as she wished, aided by the glyphs she had written beneath him. For a few brief, precious moments, it was beautiful and wonderful- Using magic had always been exhilarating, the feel of it beneath her skin thrilling.  And then she pressed her hands on either side of Fenris’ hips.

  He arched, his mouth opened and Morrigan fought against the nearly irresistible urge to stop as he began to yell and then scream in agony.

_ Keep going _ , she urged herself, near hysterical. This kind of magic, this hurting other people, had never felt good to her, but she knew that she had no choice. She had to do this- To right the wrongs she had committed. 

  Vaguely she could hear the sound of other people in the room but she just squeezed her eyes shut harder, pushed more of her magic into the struggling body before her. 

  The room began to fill with light as Fenris’ body began to glow and morph, flesh made malleable by the witch’s magic, but it did little to obscure his screams of agony or the ways in which he struggled and flailed.

  None of the observers could move, caught in a terrible trance, able to only watch as Morrigan worked over the prince, the yelling and the hum of the energy beginning to speed ever more quickly towards a terrible crescendo that none of them wanted to see but which no one could turn away from either.

  Scales began to slough off of Fenris’ body only for new, fresh skin to appear beneath and, though it was difficult to see, two separate legs were beginning to appear, becoming more and more apparent with each passing minute. The spines and webbing that had been visible on his hands began to fall off as well, almost as if he were some creature shedding its skin and the onlookers listened on in horror when finally his voice broke from the yelling and he was reduced to hoarse crying.

  It seemed never ending, the pain and the horror of it. Even the witch, though she continued on in her brutal task, was crying, desperately whispering her spells, anxiously watching as the person before her became less monster and more man.

  It was perhaps hours later, though no one could tell, that it finally ended. Fenris collapsed completely, though he didn’t have far to go, curling into a tiny ball and whimpering brokenly, covered in blood and other viscera. The witch was the next to go, trying to rise from the kneeling position she had taken only to fall as well, breathing heavily, eyes unseeing. 

  It took a moment and then everyone in the room was moving, the guards to examine the witch and Fenris’ parents to his side to look him over. Though his white hair and markings had remained he was, undeniably, him again- His legs completely back, no fins or scales that they could see. He shivered and, just as they would have when he had been a child, his mother and father wrapped their arms around him to warm and comfort him, never mind that he desperately needed to be cleaned.

  “It’s alright my love,” he could hear his mother murmuring over him, but he did not respond. He was beyond exhausted and sore, wanting nothing more than to sleep for the next few months. Though he also wanted a bath, needed one, he couldn’t imagine moving and so remained there, eyes closed, trying to regulate his breathing, to block out the memories of what had just happened. 

  Morrigan could feel hands on her arms, strangely gentle ones, helping her up and onto her feet. She tried to protest but was as exhausted from the ordeal as, she imagined, everyone else in the room was. Briefly she flicked open her eyes unable to help but look at what she had done.

  He was so small, so fragile looking compared to what he had been with his tail and spine and Morrigan swallowed heavily as her eyes trailed over the markings on his body and his hair. She had been unable to remove those, her magic simply having not been strong enough, and she briefly hated herself for having left the man with such scars. 

  “Come witch,” one of the guards spoke, trying to sound authoritative, but their voice was far too unsteady. What they had all seen in that little room was something between horror and a miracle, and no one had completely recovered. 

  “Yes,” she whispered, finally ducking her head so that she could be led away. Though she felt shaky and completely drained of mana, knew that her future was now more precarious than ever, there was a small, satisfied part of her. She could not completely heal what she had done to this man- But the prince was also as he had once been- Perhaps not completely, but he could take his life back, if he so wished.

  And that was worth something.


	19. Old Faces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a little more written beyond this but not another chapter yet, so unfortunately this will probably be it until school lets out in a few weeks. :/ Still, I appreciate all of the comments and kudos you guys have left more than you could know and I can't wait to get back to this when life stops being so crazy.

  Somewhere, far away, he could hear the sound of gulls crying and of strong wind. He could smell salt and sewage and, more immediately, clean linen. There were other things he took the time to feel, to take in, like sheets pulled taut against his body or too long hair tickling the sides of his face, but all of them were merely excuses to not open his eyes and wake up. Fenris knew he would have to eventually, but all he wanted was to fall asleep again, to block out the rest of the world as he tried to recover from what the last few months of his life had done to him.

  Eventually he sighed and opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling of the room- His room if he were not mistaken. Yes, when he looked around he found that he remembered where things were, the bookcase with all of the tomes on ships and cartographical maps, the paintings of the things he had considered most precious in his life, like his sister and mother.

_ Perhaps I could have had a painting of…  _

  He swallowed heavily and squeezed his eyes shut as he moved his legs-  _ Legs _ \- beneath the cool sheets. It was a relief, of course, to have his old body back. To be  _ whole  _ again, no matter that it meant he had now lost Anders, permanently. 

_ You lost him when you ran away like a coward _ . He flinched away from his own words and sat up suddenly, wishing to be out of the room and away from his own thoughts. Without thinking he swung his legs over the side of the bed and planted them on the floor, standing up quickly only to feel his legs quiver briefly and then collapsed beneath him.

  He hit the floor with a grunt and then struggled to push himself up, looking down at his legs with a baleful glare.

  It was… Perhaps not surprising that his legs would have trouble working, especially after so many months without them, but he refused to be rendered helpless.

  “Work,” he commanded, voice strained. His legs looked back to him, apparently unimpressed by the force in his voice. 

  Slowly, with great intent, he moved his legs as he had on the bed, watching them flex and twist. With a slow breath he put his feet flat on the floor and then pushed himself up again. His legs obviously hadn’t been used to support his weight for some time and he had to grasp the side of the bed for support to keep standing but finally he stood, steady or near enough. 

  For several long minutes he remained, breathing evenly, and trying to get his bearings. Eventually he moved his leg out taking a single, unsteady step and then waited to see if it would betray him again.

  It didn’t and Fenris let out a noisy sigh of relief and then, feeling brave, took another, and another.

  
  


  He’d wanted to leave his rooms, to finally put his legs to use, but he instead he had remained inside, restlessly prowling from one end of the room to the other. He knew enough to know that his entrance had been a grand spectacle and that, despite what his parents might wish, everyone would know that he had returned. And what was more, that he had returned… Broken. Mutilated. Though he felt more like a person again the fact that the witch had not been able to undo his markings had left him feeling scarred. 

  With an unhappy sigh he finally sat down at his desk. If he ventured outside of his rooms he knew that he would be stared and gawked at. No- It was better to remain here, where he would be safe from things like that.

  Suddenly there was a knocking at the door and he nearly jumped, heart pounding in his chest. He did not know who could be on the other side of the door but decided after a few seconds that, whoever they were, he would let them in. He told himself he needed the distraction anyway from all of his thoughts. Perhaps it would even be Varania- He had not sought her out since his return, frankly worried as to what she now thought of him, even though he missed her terribly and desperately wished to see her.

  “Come in,” he said, rising a little unsteadily from his chair and beginning to move towards the door, praying that his legs would remain steady in front of the other person, whoever they were.

  When the door opened and the short, bustling form of Varric Tethras moved in Fenris blinked, not having expected to see him but not entirely surprised either. There was a strange sense of deja vu as he approached him, though his face was much more grim than the last time they had met this way. 

  “Broody,” he said, and Fenris noted that he was not carrying any papers with him.

  “Varric,” Fenris replied, trying not to notice how Varric looked at him with sad eyes. “How may I help you?”

  “I… Wanted to come and see you. See how you were doing.” He cleared his throat and then gestured to the settee and chair closer to the front of Fenris’ room. “Shall we?”

  Fenris settled into one of the chairs, unsure as to whether he ought to be concerned or not by how Varric was acting. He… Expected people to be wary, even disgusted by him, but a small voice in the back of his head warned him that there was something else there.

  “I am… Better. I will be better.” Fenris cleared his throat and looked away from Varric’s too-knowing eyes, “I will need some time, of course.”

  “Of course- No one’s expecting you to…” Varric raised a hand and then let it fall. “Not immediately. What happened to you was, ah-”

  “Yes,” Fenris replied, wanting to cut off that particular line of conversation. He had no more wish to speak of it than he did to experience it again.

  “There’s something else I should really talk to you about then. Your father, when all of this happened, after he discovered the truth of what had happened to you… He hired someone to find you.”

  In the last few days, as he had started to recover mentally and physically from all that had happened to him, his mother had come to him and tried to help fill in the gaps of his understanding as to everything that had happened. She had told him of Morrigan, mostly, but had also briefly mentioned Meredith, telling him simply that she had failed in her task.

  “I have heard as much. My mother told me that she failed.”

  Varric’s face seemed to tighten and he replied, “Is that how she put it?”

  Fenris knew something bad was going to come out of Varric's mouth in the next sentence or two. Knew it, that way that someone seeing dark clouds on the horizon knew that a storm was coming.

  “What, exactly, did my mother leave out?”

  With a heavy sigh Varric said, “Meredith failed. To bring  _ you  _ in. But she did bring in a… A mermaid. One that, she claims, knew you.”

_ No _ . He had no idea who this Meredith was, only that she was a mermaid hunter. Briefly he thought of the one that he and Anders had encountered, of her cold eyes, her cruelty, and wondered if the one his father had hired had been like her. Then the rest of Varric’s sentence hit him and he was sitting up, gripping the arms of his chair.

  “This mer- Describe them to me.”

  “Male, long blond hair,  red tail. I did not… Hear it speak. Your father talked with it, or so I’d assumed and then…”

   Varric had continued to talk but Fenris’ mind had stopped after the first sentence. 

_ Long, red-blond hair, draping over him, trailing against his skin. _

_   His tail, red like poppies, wrapped around his, the colors complimenting each other perfectly. _

_   His smile, a little crooked, Fenris watched, fascinated at the way it made the corners of his eyes crinkle a little. How it made him look warmer, kinder.  _

__ “Where is he? Does he remain here?” Fenris blurted out, unable to help himself. He was already rising from his chair, intent on finding him, not thinking of anything beyond needing to see him again. 

  “Take it easy- He’s in the Blue Suite and he’s certainly not going anywher-”

  But Fenris was already up and lurching forward, ignoring his legs as they protested under him. Vaguely he could hear Varric telling him to stop, to sit down, dammit, but in the next few steps Fenris was out the door and moving as quickly as his still weakened legs would carry him.

  He moved past startled guards and other people in fine clothing, unseeing, thinking only of the turns he needed to take and the steps he needed to climb in order to get to the Blue Suite. It was an infrequently used room, one generally reserved for guests but also physically far away from the court. There was much that Fenris did not understand, that he did not know, but he knew that Anders was somehow here and that, even more importantly, that he needed to see him.

  By the time he made it his legs were in agony and he was breathing heavily. At some point he had started to think about Anders’ reaction to him showing up, or if, perhaps, Varric had been wrong and the person behind the door would not be him at all. 

  But as he stood in front of the doors to the Blue Suite he knew that he had no choice but to open them. He had to know.

  Taking a deep breath, telling himself he was going to be brave this time, he stepped forward and put his hand on the doorknob.

  
  
  


  It had been a few days since Varania had come to visit him and although Anders told himself not to worry he could not help his own thoughts. Though he hated himself for it his worry wasn’t even unselfish- Of course he had come to adore the girl and wished to continue to teach her, but he also… Was lonely. All he had now was his view of the ocean and the glass box around him and their lessons and he- 

  He felt his throat close up, even as he struggled against his own panic. She would come, of course, and perhaps with another adult who might be able to help him, just as she had promised. She would not leave him, alone, forgotten. 

  His head snapped up when he heard the sound of the door turning and his breath caught in his throat. Likely it was just servants come to bring his food and change his tank, not any real or meaningful interaction but still he could not help but hope. It was cruel to himself, he knew this, but he could not stop himself if he had wished.

  The door swung open and in stepped a man he had never expected to see again. 

  “Anders,” he breathed, and then stumbled forward, running to the heavy glass enclosure and almost throwing his body against it. “ _ Anders _ .”

  Fenris had completely underestimated the emotions that would rip through him when he saw Anders again, had never really  _ expected  _ to see him again. But when he turned his face, full of joy, up it was to see Anders staring down at him in horror.

  “You,” Anders whispered, “I…”

  He’d thought Fenris dead, in all honesty. There was a small part of him that’d continued to hope, that had tormented him, but as the weeks had dragged by he had…

  He looked Fenris up and down and then up again, taking in his new form. There was still much of the man he remembered- The white hair, the markings- But…

  “Your tail,” he whispered, horrified, “They took your- They  _ mutilated  _ you-” 

  In his daydreams, where Fenris was still alive and loved him and would return to him, Anders had often thought of what he might say to him when their great reunion happened. He would yell at him, of course, for leaving him, and he would cry, because he was a crier and because Fenris had worried him so much. Eventually he would have forgiven him (how could he not, when he loved him so? When he felt his absence like a physical ache?) but not before making him grovel, at least a little.

  But in his daydreams Fenris had truly been a mer. In his daydreams they still lived in the ocean, and Fenris was not one of  _ them _ , and Anders had not been tortured and imprisoned and-

  He turned his face away and closed his eyes, not wanting to see, willing this all to be some nightmare.

  “This… Is who I am. I… Of course you could not have known but-” Fenris pressed his hands against the glass and it was as if there was not an inch but miles separating them, keeping them from each other. He swallowed heavily, knowing he had to traverse carefully. Much of the original joy he had felt had fallen away in the face of Anders’ reaction but he was determined to make this reunion good, somehow. “I… I am not a mer. Was not naturally. I was cursed and I-”

  “I know,” Anders whispered, still not having turned to look at him. His voice was bitter now, and raw sounding, “I met your father- I knew but I- Until I saw you I didn’t want to truly believe-”

  He felt betrayed, though he knew it was not Fenris’ fault, not really. Fenris had been born the way he had been born, and Anders… 

  Silence descended upon them, tense, neither man knowing what to say to the other. This had not at all gone as Fenris might have wished- He had expected anger, would have begged Anders for forgiveness, but had not-

  Oh, but he had, hadn’t he? He had known that transitioning would mean leaving Anders behind, and he had made that choice. 

  “I love you,” Fenris said, voice bleak and desolate. He had lowered his head and leaned it against the glass, wishing just to  _ touch  _ Anders, and missed the mage’s look of shock and then despair. 

  Anders opened his mouth and then closed it, for once in his life at a loss for words. Finally he closed his eyes and asked, “Truly?”

  “Truly.”

  His heart thudded sickly in his chest and slowly he pressed his palms, his hands scaled and webbed now so unlike his lover’s, against the glass, against where Fenris’ had remained.

  “Please then,” he said, “Take me home where I belong.” 

  Both men raised their faces to look at each other, both miserable. Finally Fenris nodded.

  “As you wish.”

  
  


  “He may still be of some value,” her father muttered as he paced in the sitting room attached to the rooms she had been granted. Hadriana frowned at him, but kept her opinions to herself. Rather than being overjoyed to hear of the Prince’s return he seemed to have become angry, even disappointed. 

  They had come here so that she might marry him and become his Queen and, despite everything, she was sure that that would still happen. What more could her father want?

  She was smart enough to know that it did not align with her interests, whatever it was, but it wasn’t safe to let him know that she knew that, or to try to sabotage him… Directly. And so instead she continued to sit, watching her father as he continued to grumble and pace in front of her.

 “That damned witch- I will see that she pays for this…” He shook his head, fists flexing in anger and Hadriana frowned. 

  “What other witch?” There’d been so much going on in the last few months that it was frankly difficult to keep up- And that was assuming that one believed half of the rumors she had heard. As it was the prince and his family had been very careful to stay out of the public eye and away from court and so it was difficult to verify such things.

  “The one that-” Danarius stopped, not having realized that he was even speaking aloud, let alone to his daughter. He quieted and then shook his head, giving his daughter a small smile. “I apologize, please ignore me. I was merely speaking of one of my… Acquaintances that has been frustrating me lately.”

  They both knew he was lying and Hadriana struggled not to be offended by her father’s blatant lack of trust in her. Not that she needed it, of course- Once she was married to the prince she would have very little use for her father.

  “I think,” she said casually, “That I would like to pay a visit to my fiance, especially as he has returned.”

  Something flashed in her father’s eyes and internally she grinned though outwardly her expression remained placid. Whatever her father wished for involved Fenris, that much was now obvious. 

  “Do not push or bother him,” Danarius warned her, “You wouldn’t want to upset your fiance, now would you?”

  “Of course not,” she murmured, playing at demure, “But I wish to express my thanks that he has been returned- I will see him only for a few minutes.”

  Her father’s eyes tightened, his mouth set into a small smile that had nothing to do with pleasure. 

  “Do as you wish,” he said finally, “I have some appointments to keep as well.” He thought of the witch down in the dungeons, of her promise. Perhaps… 

  Perhaps.


	20. Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for your patience, i seriously appreciate all of the comments and kudos

  Eventually Fenris had settled himself in a chair next to the cage, legs still too weak to allow him to stand forever, one hand continuing to press against the cool glass. As much as he could given his size and the confines of the enclosure Anders had tried to settle next to him, hand pressed where Fenris’ was.

  They both were silent, neither looking at each, at least not for long. What did one say, in a situation like this? There was nothing, nothing, nothing.

  They might have held each other, but Fenris would have drowned inside the cage and getting Anders out would have been difficult, not to mention the pain being in the open air would have caused him.

  And so instead they continued to remain next to each other, knowing that the time to part ways forever was quickly coming but neither of them wanting to let go.

  “Before you left you- You said you remembered everything. You were talking about- About this life, weren’t you?” Anders was the first to break the quiet, his voice raw sounding.

  “Yes.”

  “I… Can understand why, then. That would be… I cannot imagine having legs.” He looked down at his own tail, running a hand over the smooth scales. 

  “Realizing what had been done to me- I could not stay, and pretend as though everything was alright.” 

  “No, I do not blame you.”  _ Not really. Not even though…  _ It wasn’t really Fenris’ fault, any of this. But still Anders had suffered, had only known suffering since Fenris had left him.

  As they sat together, the room beginning to fade into darkness as the hours passed, Anders told himself that he would be alright, in the end. He had survived losing his family, Karl, had survived those fucking hunters, and he would survive this too. He would go back home, disappear beneath the waves, and then live as he had been, before Fenris.

  That was his life, who he was. He was a fighter, a survivor, and it was not in him to simply give up, not when he had his life.

  “I must apologize, however,” Fenris said softly beside him and although Anders had thought it was what he wanted he now knew he was wrong.

  “You do not have to-”

  “I do,” Fenris was looking at him, expression firm and he watched as Anders sighed. “I… Cannot know all that has happened to you, only that it was terrible and that, had I not left you, had I been there to protect you, it would not have happened. I have failed you, as a friend, as a lover-” He watched as tears began to gather in Anders’ eyes, floating away to disappear into the water around his face, but still he did not stop, “And I am sorry that I cannot be what you need me to be. I am… There are no words, only that I am sorry. So sorry.”

  “Oh- Oh,” Anders sighed heavily and closed his eyes. Giving a shaky laugh he replied, “Really, it’d be easier if you could act like an ass and I could just, you know, hate you for the rest of my life.” 

  He opened his eyes just in time to see Fenris’ mouth quirk up into a little smile as the man replied: “If you truly wish…”

  “By the Mother, no, no,” Anders chuckle was watery but for the first time since Fenris had found him again his eyes seemed a little lighter, the smile on his face genuine. His heart lurched and he nearly clutched at it, the ache fierce, like a physical wound. Maker, he would miss this man- Would miss looking at him, laughing with him, running his hands through his hair…

  He wanted to beg him not to go, to- To exist in Fenris’ world, somehow. But he could not. It would be cruel, to keep a creature like Anders locked up on land. He deserved to be free, even if Fenris could not be with him. 

  “Would you-” Anders looked away, licking his lips nervously, “Would you stay with me for the night? I know that you must- Realizing who you are, I know you have so many more important things but…”  _ But I cannot stand this loneliness, this silence, this fucking  _ cage- 

  “I was not intending to leave.” Fenris’ eyes were wide, almost hurt looking, and he pressed his hand more insistently against the glass. “I… I will return you to the sea, as you wish, but until then I am… I would stay with you.”

  “Really?” Anders asked, swallowing heavily and feeling tears of relief prickle at the corners of his eyes, “I… I mean, of course.” He gave Fenris a smile, hoping that he could not see just how terrifying the thought of being left alone again had been to him.

  “Yes. As much as I can, at any rate.” For a moment they looked at each other and then away, the mood in the room strange. “I… I can read to you, in the meantime,” Fenris continued, trying to fight against his feelings.

  He would remain with Anders until the mer decided he wished to return home. Until Anders finally left him, for good. 

  Fenris reminded himself that he was the one ultimately at fault for their separation, not Anders- Had he been born a mer, had he kept his tail, he might have been able to return with him. But instead he had chosen the life of a land dweller, and Anders was only doing the reasonable thing by leaving.

  “That would be nice,” Anders’ voice was quiet, forlorn, and likely he had come to the same conclusion as Fenris. 

  “Let me… I need to go retrieve the book and, ah, some food.” He seemed embarrassed and even though Anders was gripped with anxiety by the thought of his leaving, even briefly, he just smiled at his lover. 

  “Sneak me some fish if you can?” He didn’t really understand much about land dwellers, though Varania had told him that they kept food stocked in pantries and kitchens. Given that he was brought fish every day he assumed they had some way of keeping it, although the how of it was a mystery to him. “But something big and juicy, they’ve kept me on strict rations here,” he continued and made a face, wanting it to be a joke only to watch as something flashed across Fenris’ face.

  “How… Long have you been here?” His voice was soft, but intent.

  “For far too long,” Anders tried joking, only for his voice to falter at the end. He was a strong man, had always prided himself on this fact, but he could only be strong for so long. “Go on love, get your book, I am curious to see one of those things up close.”

  Fenris said nothing about Anders’ obvious change of subject, too stunned by the casual way he had called him ‘love’ and wondering if Anders even realized what he had said.

  “I… Yes, I will be right back.” He turned then and left, throwing Anders one last look over his shoulder.

  As soon as the door shut and Fenris would no longer see him Anders slumped down in his cage as much as he could, wrapping his arms around himself.

  “He’ll be back,” Anders murmured to himself, “He will.”

_ Oh, like the last time he left you?  _ Anders winced, and told himself that that wasn’t fair and that, furthermore, this was an entirely different situation. Still he could not help but feeling twitchy and on edge until the door opened again.

  He popped up immediately, not bothering to hide his relief that Fenris had truly-

  The man who stepped through the door was not Fenris.

  He looked Anders up and then down, silver eyes twinkling with cruel interest.

  And then he grinned.

  
  


  He moved as stealthily as he could but Fenris knew he was attracting stares, could feel the eyes crawling over him like hands. It was singularly unnerving, much more so than being at court had ever been. As a prince he had been well groomed, in control of himself. The stares that had been leveled at him had been ones of respect and pride, now they were of an ugly sort of curiosity and pity.

  He was so focused on ignoring everyone around him that he didn't even notice the little girl trailing behind him until she tugged on his sleeve.

  He whipped around, startled, until he realized it was his sister.

  “Varania,” he whispered voice raw. She was taller than the last time he had seen her and her eyes were hard little shards of green.

  “Fenris,” she said, swallowing heavily. She'd been in the middle of sneaking out to meet Anders now that night had fallen in order to practice her magic but all thoughts of that had fled when she had seen her brother, skulking around. Her eyes filled with tears and, angry, she wiped at them fiercely, wishing that she could control her emotions. She was angry with her brother, dammit, and she intended to show him that- And these stupid tears were clouding her vision and getting in the way-

  “Varania,” his voice was quiet, low, as she had always known it to be, and it enveloped her just as his arms did. “I am-” She could hear his heavy swallow as he paused, “-Sorry.”

  “I hate you,” she said, even as she did not try to pull away from him, sniffling. “You- You-”

  “I know,” Fenris replied, “I’m a bastard.”

  Suddenly she shoved his chest, turning her face up and glaring at him. They were in one of the lesser traveled corridors, neither she nor Fenris had wanted to be seen going about on their relative missions, but she did not care if anyone stumbled across them just then.

  “You- Why didn’t you visit me when you came back?  _ Why did you leave _ ?”

  This time she did bat his arms away and he stepped back, giving her space to rage. Briefly he thought of Anders, worried about not returning promptly, but knew he could not simply walk away from his sister.

  She was staring at him, tears streaming down her face now, her stance that of a fighters. She had come for blood and deserved no less.

  “I was a coward,” he said, finally, looking her in the eyes. When had she had the time to grow so old? When last he had seen her she had been a young girl but between the look she was giving him and the fierceness in her voice he could easily see the woman she was becoming. And now he was bound to treat her like one- To give her the answers he might have otherwise kept from her. 

  “I was… There were things that I was scared of, and so I ran. When I returned I- Was not certain how you would receive me, and so I stayed away.”

  Varania deflated somewhat at his answers, lower lip trembling for a few seconds but she straightened her shoulders again and clenched her fists. 

  “Well- Then you should have told me! Or mother, or father! We would have helped you- You-” She huffed, her anger and tears making it hard to speak. “You made us scared too! Did you even- Even think of us?”

  “No, I was selfish.” Internally he cringed, forced to confront the bad things he had done. But he had always been an honest man, and knew that he had to own up to these things. He had to stop running away.

  “You- You-” She’d expected more of a fight from him, used to adults brushing off her thoughts and feelings or all but patting her on the head like a pet dog. She frowned, and then muttered, “You were.”

  “I do not expect you to forgive me- Though I hope that one day you will.”

  She frowned, not knowing that she could promise just yet that she could. She loved her brother, looked up to him, but after what he had done…

  Awkwardly she looked away, rubbing her arm absentmindedly and, still feeling ornery, asked, “What are you doing out of your rooms anyway? Mother told me that you were healing and not to bother you.”

  He opened his mouth and then shut it, unsure of how to respond. It seemed possible Varania would not even know of the mer in the Blue Suite and, though he was not sure why, he wanted to keep it that way. Finally he mumbled, “Trying to keep some promises.”

  Her face scrunched up as she tried to understand what he’d meant by that, only for Fenris to speak again.

  “And should I ask what you’re doing, wandering the halls at night? Or have they freed you from the nursery?”

  Suddenly she froze, and swallowed. Fenris didn’t, couldn’t know about her abilities- No one could- If they did she’d be sent away and…

  And she couldn’t. 

  “N-Nothing,” she stuttered, suddenly nervous, “Just, stealing some snacks from the kitchen.”

  “Ah yes, the kitchens, that must be why you were heading down the corridor directly opposite from them.”

  She gave him a baleful glare and he almost chuckled, feeling… Feeling as if this all were a little bit more normal.

  “Well, it’s none of your business, now is it?” 

  He raised an eyebrow and, teasing, asked, “Aren’t you too young to be sneaking out and meeting boys? Or girls?”

  “That’s- That’s- Not it at all! I’m… Meeting a friend. Just a friend.” Her face flamed, though really she was telling the truth. Anders was far, far too old for her and she simply didn’t… Think of him that way. That was like- Like finding her father attractive. 

  “Of course,” he replied, just a hint of mocking in his otherwise serious tone. When she opened her mouth to argue however he spoke again, voice softer, “I will let you be on your way then- To whatever business it is that you have.”

  Her face smoothed as her frown disappeared and, quietly, Varania said, “Thank you, Fenris.”

  They ought to part- They both had their separate objectives- But still Fenris put a hand on his sister’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. 

  “Sometime soon, we should… We should go into the gardens together. I imagine there has been a lot of growth there, since I have been gone.”

  “...There has,” she said, and then she smiled and for a moment he felt- Forgiven, or near enough to it. Suddenly she reached up and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. She still had to stand up on her tiptoes to reach to him but now she was able to get her arms around his neck. 

  “I love you,” she murmured, “I’m glad you’re back.”

  And then she turned and disappeared down the hall, moving quickly as she continued to throw furtive glances over her shoulder.

  For a long moment Fenris stood there, feeling very warm and happy. And then the gears in his mind began to turn as he noticed Varania disappear up the flight of stairs that led to the Blue Suite, rather than the other, much more heavily traveled ones. 

  It was true that those stairs led to a very secluded part of the castle, and even more true that he had no right to follow his sister. But as soon as she had turned up the stairs he had felt something, perhaps instinct, something else, begin to gnaw at him.

  A heavy frown on his face, he began to follow his sister.


	21. At The End of the Trail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promised myself i wouldn't let another month go by without updating this  
> i... guess i didn't break that?
> 
> bless you all for hanging around

  When Varania turned the last corner, still unaware of her brother following her, and saw the door to the Blue Suite thrown open and some dark splotches on the carpet her stomach sank.

  “Anders?” She moved forward quickly, not thinking of any danger that might have remained, only concerned for her friend and his safety. “Anders!” She spoke more loudly and down the hall where he had kept his distance Fenris heard her.

_ What?  _

__ As he had followed her it had become increasingly obvious where Varania was heading, but not why. So she knew of the existence of the mer- But her shouting suggested some more familiar relationship, rather than just that of a curious child who had stumbled upon some poorly kept secret.

  And then the edge of panic in her voice reached him and he was suddenly moving forward much more quickly. He came across the same scene as she had- The door, the spots, and then followed her into the room where she was standing, stock still.

  The giant glass case which had imprisoned Anders for so long was now broken, only the side panels still intact, shards of glass gleaming dully in the the carpet. Sick, Fenris noted how blood gleamed off of several of the broken pieces, dark and shiny looking. There were scorch marks, too, on several of the chairs and across one of the walls. It was obvious that there had been a fight here, but why or who had ultimately been the victor was less clear.

  And Anders, missing- His heart lurched in panic, thinking of the blood.

  He stepped forward, a piece of glass crunching under his foot, and Varania whipped around, raising her hands and calling fire to them in a stance that was purely defensive.

  “What-” Both siblings spoke at the same time and both went ashen as they each realized what they were seeing.

  “You are a mage,” Fenris said quietly, heart thumping uncomfortably. 

  “Please,” Varania had stepped away from him and extinguished the fire in her palms. “Don’t tell-” She swallowed heavily and he could see tears forming in her eyes. “I don’t want to be taken away and- Anders- The mermaid- He was teaching me to control them, to hide them- So I-”

  He was forced to brace his hand against one of the walls to find some semblance of balance, trying to understand all of this very new, sudden information. 

  “I-” Fenris inhaled deeply, “Won’t, but…” 

  His sister was a mage. Like that witch- The one who had mutilated him, who had almost kill him- 

  And like Anders. Like Anders. 

  He’d been raised to fear mages, and it was only through the loss of his memories that he had come to so easily trust Anders. (Bigotry, it appeared, was not an inborn trait.) 

  But by the time that his memories had returned to him he had spent too much time around Anders, had known him too well to hate him. And he knew now that with his sister it would be the same. He was made intensely uneasy by the revelation of her magic and yet he found, when he reached down within himself, that he loved her all the same. That he trusted her, just as he had before. 

  Voice dull he said, “I know Anders too.”

  His sister blinked, beginning to realize that Fenris was not going to yell for the nearest guard to come and arrest her. And what was more, that something was going on that she did not fully understand. 

  “...How?”

  But her brother just shook his head, “That’s not important right now- Right now we-”

  “We need to find him,” Varania finished, squaring back her shoulders and staring at her brother, with the same eyes that looked back at him every time he looked in a mirror.

  He watched her steadily and then, finally, nodded once. Fenris knew that he should have sent her away, knew that where they were going (and where was that? He had no idea, only that he would search to the ends of Thedas to find Anders) was undoubtedly going to be dangerous. Whatever had happened in this room had been violence, and he was sure that they would only find more of it.

  But he also knew that he would not be able to control Varania and that, what was more, if she had had any sort of relationship with Anders it would not be fair to ask her to stay behind.

 “He cannot be too far gone, if we begin following his trail now we should- We  _ will  _ find him.”

  He turned then, doing his best to get his breathing under control. Varania stepped to his side, looking up at him, and then simply nodded. She was more serious than he had ever seen her before, and this brought him some comfort. Her shoulders did not quite reach his, but he was again recognizing that she was no longer the little girl he had left behind.

  Fenris looked down, letting his eyes take in the signs of struggling objectively and then, taking a deep breath, began his hunt.

  
  


  He was, really, getting very tired of this constant kidnapping and assault. Once was bad enough, but this was now the second time (the third, if you counted the regent forcibly keeping him under house arrest) that he was being dragged around, severely injured. 

  
_ Fucking land dwellers _ , he thought. He’d never had this much trouble until he’d made the stupid mistake of falling love with one.

  “If you’re wondering about my opinion,” Anders said, as he was dragged along, trying not to wince when he was bumped into things, “You really haven’t thought this out. Fenris is going to come after me and, undoubtedly, do terrible things to you and-”

  The man with the silver eyes turned to him, momentarily silencing Anders. There was… Something in his gaze, something that deeply unsettled him. He was a mage, had used his powers to attack him, but there was something about the quality of his magic that felt disturbing. It was… Slippery and foul smelling, and it made Anders’ skin itch just being around it. 

  “That is exactly what I wish for. You are of no consequence to me, but him-”

  “Him? What about him?” He might have snarked back at the other mage, had the anxiety in his gut not slowly begun to overwhelm him. 

  Creepy, silver eyes had frowned at his interruption only to begin speaking again. “He was… Transformed. A mer that was not a mer. And a man that was no longer a man. I wished to study him, to learn about any unique abilities that he may have been imbued with. Only…”

  He frowned, and then continued, voice full of malice, “Only the other witch changed him. She will, of course, be punished as well, but my main concern is in having him. Perhaps if I am lucky I may yet divine a way to change him back”

  Anders’ head swam, a combination of the beating he had taken earlier and all of the new information he was learning. That and the rage that was slowly but surely beginning to simmer inside of him.

  He thought of the way Fenris had looked, absolutely stricken, when his memories had come back to him. Of the terror, and the panic. And the fact that this man, whoever he was, apparently wanted to put him through that hell again.

  “But he’s not… You can’t just take him- He’s- Someone important.” Anders didn’t understand the politics of these people, but he knew that Fenris could not merely disappear. One of the grunts assisting Danarius and who was half holding him up and half dragging him along squeezed his arm more tightly and threw Anders a look. Well- It wouldn’t be the first time someone had found him annoying.

  “The answer to that is simple- He has run away before and he will run away again.”

  Anders frowned heavily, thinking of how satisfying it would be to send an electrical bolt into the man in front of him. It might get him killed- He’d been treated roughly when he’d resisted being taken before- But oh it would feel  _ so  _ good. 

  “Ah yes, and no one will find it suspicious that he was last seen with you and your stupid, smirking face.”

  Silver Eyes flicked his gaze to one of the men dragging Anders along who, without much ceremony, proceeded to knock the wind out of Anders with one blunt, meaty fist. Anders would have fallen over, were he not being held up, and was forced to gasp for breath, bent over awkwardly.

  “Good, you’re rather more tolerable when you’re mute.”

  Despite the fact that he was not able to so much as speak, or breathe, Anders sent Silver Eyes a glare. Oh, there were going to be a lot of lightning bolts as soon as he got half the chance.

  
  


  The blood trail took them down rarely traversed passages in the castle, past hallways caked in dust, dark and gloomy and poorly lit, and, eventually, into the bowels of the palace itself. Each step made his heart clench tighter as Fenris became less and less certain that Anders was going to be alright. 

  Varania, impressively keeping up to his pace, had lit a mage light to help guide them but it too had begun to flicker, a reflection of the hopelessness she no doubt was feeling now.

  The trail itself was sparse which was both good and bad. Good, became it meant that the wound could not have been so terrible, and bad because it made following it all the more difficult. A few times Fenris had lost sight of it entirely and was saved only because, at this point, most of the passages were one-way hallways.

  He did not know how long they had followed it for- An hour, several hours? Only that it seemed far too long. 

  And then, suddenly, he could see the flickering of torchlight ahead, and an open doorway.

  The passages, he knew, would eventually lead outside. He just hadn’t been certain as to where they were taking him.

_ To a trap _ , he thought, and turned to look at his sister who had stubbornly continued to move beside him.

  “Varania,” he said.

  “No,” she replied, not bothering to look up at him. He couldn’t do this to her- Couldn’t endanger her this way but-

  “ _ Varania _ -” 

  And then chaos broke out.

  
  


  The last corridor had led them to some kind of open clearing, bordered by a copse of trees. It was clear that this was an escape route of some kind and, what was more, that this was where Silver Eyes intended to capture Fenris. He’d stopped their small party, him, Anders, and the two brutes holding him up, and then settled in to wait. 

  Minutes had ticked by, and Anders had allowed himself to start planning. He was not unused to fighting- There was no real rule of law in the ocean- But this was something entirely different. 

  And then, at the mouth of the corridor, two figures appeared, and Anders felt his breath catch in his chest, painful.

  He’d expected Fenris (even as he had secretly hoped that he would not come) but he had not thought of Varania. Varania, small and defenseless, a barely trained mageling-

  He watched as the magelight floating above her winked out, his heart falling, and then saw her motion her hands in a gesture that he knew well. 

  Suddenly it felt as though a storm erupted over them, raining down fire upon the people around him. The two men who had been dragging him along dropped him and Anders barely had the wherewithal to throw up a shield over himself as they yelled and cursed trying to cover themselves.

  “Attack them!” He heard Silver Eyes shout, even as he removed a small, almost baton-looking device from his pocket. Anders watched in fascination as he began to extend it and he realized that it was a staff.

  Anders' heart had swelled with pride upon seeing Varania use her magic, so well and so comfortably, but he was still worried, least of all because of the way that Silver Eyes was now casting his magic.

  It was dark, and left a strange, metallic taste in his mouth. It was wrong, and it wasn’t until Anders saw the other mage unsheath a blade and grasp one of his cronies that he understood why.

  “No!”

  
  


  “No!”

  There was fire and screaming and he had no weapon, having foolishly  gone off without the thought to grab one. His anxiety had been riding him hard, the knowledge that he had now lost Anders, again. That he had failed him,  _ again.  _

__ There was magic in the air, rushing past him and around him. Distantly he recognized Varania stepping forward but when he moved to stand in front of her she frowned at him and yelled, trying to be heard above the rising noise of chaos,

  “ _ Go _ ! Get him!”

  He could not leave her- but somehow he made himself move, found himself moving across the small space that separated him from Anders and his captors.

  A man stepped in front of him, tall and meaty looking. He was reaching for a knife at his side, likely thinking of how easy it would be to take on Fenris, who stood several inches shorter than him and was weaponless.

  It was not easy.

  Though he remembered the comfort of having a sword in his hand, the feel of leather against the calluses of his palm, he knew he did not need it to be dangerous. 

  A knife, stolen in a quick series of maneuvers would be just as effective.

  His opponent expected him to feint, to play avoidance due to their size difference and so instead Fenris drove forward, head low, the brunt of his shoulder straight into the man's solar plexus. The man grunted, collapsing around him, a stream of air exiting his mouth as he lost his breath.

  Fenris grasped the man’s left hand, the one still clumsily wrapped around the hilt of his knife and is one smooth movement wrenched it away and grasped the handle of the dagger.

  He drew it away and then plunged it into the man's neck. He had no time to dally and after his opponent had collapsed, twitching and bleeding out, he rounded on the others.

  Anders was close, close enough for Fenris to see the thin cuts on the side, (from where he had been dragged out of the tank, struggling?) and although it nearly destroyed him not to go straight to him Fenris knew that he had yet more obstacles in his path. There was another man and then, Fenris’ breath caught in his throat, a person he recognized.

  He felt his world go side-ways as he struggled to reconcile what he knew with what he was now seeing.

  “Emperor?” He heard himself asking, as if from some distance. “Danarius?”

  Anders looked between Silver Eyes and Fenris, trying to understand what was going on. He’d started to form his own magic just as Silver Eyes had, only to be distracted by the sight of Fenris (rather efficiently) killing one of the thugs next to him. 

  However clumsy he had been in the water, it was clear to Anders that this was not the case on land. 

  “Hello,” Silver Eyes replied,  _ Danarius  _ his mind helpfully supplied, “I am pleased to meet you again, though disappointed that you have been returned to your other form.”

   Fenris' mind was spinning, his gut twisted painfully. He had never truly gotten to know the Emperor, given everything that had occurred, but he now realized what a mistake that had been.

  “You are a blood mage,” he managed to choke out, the dawning horror in his voice evident.

  “It is but one more tool,” Danarius replied, and then slit the throat of the man in front of him.

  He waved his arm and a crowd of shades burst out of the ground around Anders and Fenris. 

  Anders rose up as much as he could on his tail, shooting Fenris a confused and terrified glance. Blood magic was something he had come across once or twice, but never like this. He knew these for what they were- Demons- But was horrified that the man before them had so casually summoned them.

  “It’s okay-” Fenris tried to shout to Anders as the spirits separated them and he was forced to fend off one of them with his knife while trying to get to Anders. He managed to cut down several shades, Anders working to clear the ones around him as well, only for Danarius to raise his staff ominously. 

  “Prince-” He said, and although he was only talking somehow it was possible to hear him over all of the noise around them. “It is only you that I wish for- This fighting is unnecessary, should you choose to come with me peacefully.”

  Anders who was busy destroying as many of the creatures around them as he could had just frozen a shade, watching it burst into fragments of ice, when Danarius spoke. His heart sank and he struggled to try to get up to yell to Fenris. 

  “Fen, don’t-”

  “I do not understand-” Fenris said, breathing heavily. Around him and Anders were strewn the corpses of the monsters that Danarius had summoned and, were it not for his words, Fenris would have already been at his throat. “-Any of this.”

  “No, you have been rather out of the loop, lately.” The smile that Danarius gave him was enough to send chills down his spine, the way his eyes gleamed, cold, like metal. “I was not particularly interested in you until I learned of what was done to you- The witch, although unschooled, is rather a genius to have done what she did.”

_ Genius _ . It was impossible but Fenris could almost feel his markings respond to the words, recoiling, and he flinched away. 

  “But, rather than pursue progress, she turned her back on it. I plan to rectify that mistake.”

  “Fenris-” This time it was Anders speaking, eyes wide, “He- Was talking as they were taking me out here and- And he plans to change you back- To use you as a test subject for his- You and Varania need to leave  _ right now _ .”

  If either man thought that they were enlightening him, they were not. This was all too much, a horror so unreal that Fenris was having trouble understanding that it was truly reality. 

  This man, Danarius, wished to change him back into a mermaid. Wished to perform dark rituals on him, and had dragged Anders into the mess as well. Varania, Fenris thought guiltily, had been involved in this through his own fault.

  “Why did you take Anders?” He finally asked, fearing the answer.

  “To ensure your cooperation. I would consider keeping the two of you together, even, should you prove to be good enough subjects. As a reward, of sorts. The Princess, of course, will be free to go.”

  “Fenris,” he heard Anders plead beside him, “ _ Go _ .”

  Anders swallowed heavily as his lover turned to look at him. They both looked at Anders, at his size, and knew that Fenris could not carry him no matter how strong he was. And Anders, with his massive tail hanging behind him, could not leave.

  He could try to kill Danairus, but he knew that Anders was injured, likely drained of his mana, and he himself wasn’t in a much better place- Still unused to using his legs, with only a small knife to defend himself, against a man who had few qualms about using blood magic. 

  He was no fool- He knew that the wave of shades would not be the last if they resisted, not by far.

  “Varania,” Fenris said instead, “Go and get the guard.”

  “What-” She started, confused. She was drained, having used almost all of her mana in helping destroy the monsters that Danarius had summoned, and terrified, having never seen anything like this. It was only because her brother and Anders were still not safe that she was able to remain standing, trying to be brave. “No, not until you-”

  “Varania,” Fenris turned to look at her, voice brooking no argument. “Anders and I will try to hold him off but we will need back up. Now  _ go. _ ”

  He could almost feel Danarius smirking in front of him, knowing, just as Fenris did, that they would be gone before any other assistance could reach them. Varania didn’t have to though- Varania could believe him, and then could leave to safety.

  Shaking her head finally she turned back and then began running as quickly as her smaller legs would allow her, trying to keep the tears from spilling down her face. Fenris and Anders would be alright she told herself- They had to be- They would fend off Danarius and she would return with Aveline and the others and- And everyone would be safe and happy in the end.

  She barely caught the sob that tried to escape her throat.

  They would be alright.

  
  


  They would be alright, he thought, as he watched Varania disappear into the secret passage they had used to get here. He and Anders would go with Danarius and then would determine someway to escape when Anders’ mana had returned. 

  “Good,” said Danarius, “I am pleased that we have come to an understanding.”

  He would not look at him but Fenris knew that Anders was staring at him in horror and betrayal. “Please, you can still go-”

  “I will not run away from you again,” Fenris replied quietly before finally looking up at Danarius and addressing him again. “Where is our destination?”

 


	22. The Boat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not super happy with this chapter but I had enough written that I felt I could publish it and had a good stopping point.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the surprise guests!

  In the end he was forced to carry Anders, or rather to do so to the best of his ability. Fenris was strong, but Anders’ tail alone was a length of a man, and about as heavy as one too. For his part Anders was effectively useless- short of dragging himself along with his arms he had no recourse for moving on land, and so was forced to rely entirely on Fenris to carry him along. It was slow moving, and awkward, but Fenris knew that he had little choice.

  Next to them Danarius and his magelight moved sedately, visage calm, as if they were three friends taking a stroll instead of two hostages and their captor. Apparently he had a ship waiting for them, down in some rarely used section of the coastline. Bitterly Fenris wondered how this trip was going to turn out for him and Anders, given that all of this had started when he had tried to run away to the ocean.

  “Fenris,” Anders spoke quietly, so that Danarius, a few feet away from them, might not hear them. “I’m sorry. I’m so-”

  “Hush,” Fenris replied, “There is no need for apologies.”

  “I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for me,” the reply was whispered fiercely and Fenris could feel as some of his spines straightened in agitation, pricking against his own skin. “I won’t-”

  “Would you leave me, were I in your place?”

  “...I am not.” Anders said finally, after some length of silence. “I am not.”

  Night loomed long ahead of them and were it not for the weak light from Danarius’ magelight the journey would have been entirely dark. There were no torches for them, and even if there were Fenris wasn’t sure that he would have been able to carry Anders and anything else.

  In the distance Fenris thought he heard a faint clamoring but forced himself not to get his hopes up. More likely than not it was nothing- Or even if it was the guard, finally mobilized by his sister, they were unlikely to find them.

  The path was one which took them through some of the woods surrounding the castle and then the sandy scrubland that would eventually lead down to the coast. Each laborious step he took brought them farther away from any assistance and ahead of them, past the sand dunes and down the slope that would lead to the ocean, he thought he saw a small boat. It was partly ashore, but small enough that it could be pushed back into the water with relative ease. So small as to pass by without much notice.

  So small that Fenris, with some difficulty, might be able to pilot it himself. 

  He let his eyes slide to Danarius briefly, and then looked away. He was in a weakened state, just as Anders was, but perhaps if he managed to surprise him…

  He looked up again only to find the hard stare of Danarius boring into him, something like a smile creeping across his face.

  Quickly Fenris looked away and unconsciously squeezed one of the webbed hands slung around his shoulder. It was a small comfort to think that Anders, for all that he had suffered, was an incidental part of this. That he might still be able to escape was one of the few hopes that Fenris was holding on to. 

  
  


  Varania’s heart was pounding, keeping time with the beat of her shoes on the carpet as she pounded down the hallways, desperately searching for someone to help her. It was night now and most were resolutely asleep, incapable of helping her.

  “Please,” she whispered to herself, barely able to speak for her heavy breathing, the words of her fervent prayer beginning to bleed into each other, “please, someone, please, pleasepleaseplease-”

  She turned a corner, all but smashing into the armored body in front of her. Were it not for the person catching her arms and holding her up she would have fallen back and onto the ground. 

  “Princess-” Aveline Vallen, Captain of the Royal Guard, stared down at the princess, trying to understand what was happening. It was obvious she was distressed- Breathing heavily, dress stained and slightly… Singed? There was a smell about her, something strange, like ozone or…

  Reflexively her grip turned tighter and she had to force herself to let go of the princess’ arms. 

  “Your Highness,” she said, gentling her voice so as not to scare the poor girl, “What is the matter?”

  Varania looked up at the other woman, eyes wide, her thoughts still wild. She was not sure that this was something she could trust Aveline with- The truth of her magic, what had occurred with her brother and Anders- But Aveline had always been kind to her, and was a good, noble woman. And even if she seemed as distrustful of mages as everyone else the simple fact was that Varania had little choice. 

  “Rouse the guard,” she said, in mimicry of her father, who she had often seen stand tall, unwavering, as he called upon his soldiers. “They are needed to defend their charges.”

  Aveline frowned, hunching her shoulders a little so that she would be at more of a height with the princess. It would have been easy to brush off the princess’ request, but it was clear that something was wrong. 

  “At once- You will inform me of the situation as we gather them, will you not?” And as Aveline fetched the King and Queen and, perhaps, Fenris. 

  For a second Varania found herself rendered mute, having thought that she might be ignored, or told to go to her room while Aveline got her parents. She had not expected to be taken seriously, and the wave of relief that washed over her was almost breath taking in its intensity.

   “Y-Yes,” she replied, throat thick and eyes feeling itchy, “Let’s.”

  And even though at thirteen she was nearly a woman grown still she grasped Aveline’s hand as the two women began to move towards the barracks. And Aveline, mind whirling with thoughts as Varania began to speak, squeezed her hand back.

 

  The room she had been relegated to was nicer than the prison cells she had formerly called home but the bolts on the door and the bars on the window had made it clear that she was not truly free. For many days she had lain in the bed in the room- it was better than the hard pallet she had previously been afforded though she found that rest did not come any easier.

  She was certain that death would come for her soon- Why else would they have continued to imprison her? But she also could not be certain as to why they would continue to let her live. If she were to be executed (and she was certain she was, had lived with the fear it looming over her every days for weeks, perhaps months now) why not do so as soon as possible? 

   Morrigan had never been a particularly nervous person. There was a great deal of uncertainty in her that she had fought to bury, that much was true. But the constant tightness in her chest, the ache over her heart and the pounding headaches were new. It was hell to live this way, and she did not know how much longer she could. Idly she moved to one of the windows, gripping the bars tightly as she felt her anxiety wash over her. Closing her eyes she felt the metal against her palm, felt the coolness of it. And then, as her emotions began to overwhelm her, she felt it subtly beginning to heat until suddenly she pulled away with a cry, the metal glowing and her hands slightly burned. 

   Blinking she quickly recovered herself and touched one of the other bars, freezing it. In the dungeons the cell she had been placed in had been outfitted with bars that were resistant to magic. These, apparently, were not the same.

   She breathed in deeply as the realization hit her, and she saw the faintest glimmer of hope, beyond those bars. Escape, it seemed, was still possible for her.

  
  


  The walk grew longer and more difficult with each step, the weight of Anders’ body against his seeming to double, and then triple. It was clear that the mer was not doing so well either- His breathing was labored and every so often Fenris could hear a faint wheezing on his exhale. He wondered at the damage that Anders had sustained even before the fight with Danarius and his lackeys and swallowed heavily. This time when he squeezed the webbed hand closest to his own the returning touch was noticeably weaker.

  The descent down the sand slopes was difficult and tenuous- He attempted to find purchase in the little tufts of grass that sprang up every now and then but several of them gave way beneath his weight, threatening to hurtle Anders and himself down to the base of the dune. If it weren’t for the fact that they might have broken bones Fenris might have considered it as a means of escape. As it was, however, he suffered the trip until he, still carrying Anders, and Danarius, stood on the damp beach, the ship still before them.

  Beside him Danarius had been about to signal for the boat’s captain to come out and let them aboard so that they could begin their journey, only for Fenris to interrupt him with one last desperate plea. 

  “If you have no need of the mer,” he started, “I would return him to the ocean- I see no reason why he must join us on our journey.” He tried to affect an air of calm though his heart beat so heavily it was physically uncomfortable. Against him he felt Anders tense and he silently prayed that, for once, he would be quiet.

  “You would deprive yourself of a playmate? I am surprised.” The eyes that roamed over him were unsettling in their intensity, glittering with interest. Fenris knew that Danarius was not waiting to actually hear his opinion, rather waiting for Fenris to somehow trap himself.

  “He is nothing but a burden,” Fenris forced himself to say. “I have no wish to continue carrying on such a weak man.”

  Anders closed his eyes, knowing what Fenris was doing but feeling his heart catch all the same. It was the not the words, not really, but rather the fact that he knew that Fenris was trying to save him from whatever horrible fate awaited him aboard the ship that sat bobbing gently in the water before them. 

  Though it was difficult, he felt so frustratingly weak from the fighting earlier, his mana completely drained, he tightly grasped Fenris’ hand, trying to communicate.

_ Please _ , he wanted to say,  _ do not separate from me now _ .

  Danarius watched the two, seeming to mull over the decision. Finally he flicked his wrist in Fenris’ direction, giving his permission as if it were some trivial matter. 

  “I suppose you can leave him behind in the water- Do not wade out too far, however.” 

  Though it made his skin crawl Fenris nodded, beginning to move towards the shore. If the moon told him anything it was now in the early hours of the morning and though the water was cold he did not so much as grunt in discomfort as he stepped into it, slowly wading in as deeply as he dared with Danarius watching them from the shore. 

  “Fenris,” Anders rasped beside him, “Please don’t do this.”

  “It is the only way,” he replied, his voice low so that they would not be overheard. “Please, for my sake, go quietly.”

  “We both know what will become of you if you go with that man- Please, let me come with you. I can’t-”  _ I can’t watch as you leave with him, can’t watch you board that ship, going to your doom. Please, don’t make me. _

__ “You will survive at least,” Fenris said quietly, attempting to disengage from Anders now that the water was up to their waists. “That is all I need- Just that reassurance.”

  “No,” Anders said, clinging fiercely to the elf still, ignoring the way that Silver Eyes was obviously growing irritated, watching them. “Do you think I can live with myself, if I let you go?”

  “Yes,” Fenris replied, his expression stony. It hurt, more than he had thought possible, but this was necessary. “I promised you that I would return you to the sea- The time has come much quicker than either of us could anticipate but it will be the same as it would have been. We will be separated and that is that.”

  “But you will be-”  _ Dead. _ Anders tried to keep himself from wailing the last word, barely able to control himself. “I won't let you do this,” he replied, fiercely.

  “I will give you no choice,” Fenris said, and then, with all of his strength, shoved Anders away from him and further into the water before beginning to struggle back towards the shore. It was a small comfort that Anders could not follow him- That he would be stuck in the water, safe. 

  Good.  _ Good _ .

  Behind him Anders waded, his heart anguished as he watched Silver Eyes smiling and watching Fenris. The elf stared straight ahead, never once looking back, and Anders- Anders could not stand it.

  He closed his eyes and then reached deep inside himself, searching for the last dredges of his power. He would protect Fenris, even if it killed him.

 

  The water felt heaviest when he finally reached the shore, having seeped into his clothes and boots. His pants and tunic, damp and uncomfortable, only made his march that much more difficult. 

  The look on Danarius’ face- of triumph- was somehow worse. But Anders was alive and, though he might never forgive him it was no matter. Fenris had little hope for what awaited him on the ship, and he knew that death now might in fact be merciful.

  “It’s good to see you so obedient already,” Danarius spoke and Fenris had to grit his teeth to keep from spitting at him, instead remaining silent. When Danarius seemed to realize that he would get no verbal answer he simply nodded and then opened his mouth to call, yet again, for the captain of the ship only-

  He felt the power of it first, all the hair on the nape of his neck lifting and gooseflesh breaking out on his arms as the smell of ozone and pure  _ energy  _ washed over him and then- Then the  _ sound _ .

  It was louder than anything he had ever heard, forcing the air from his lungs as he stumbled forward. Terrified and disoriented he whirled around, watching as Anders rose slightly from the roiling water of the dark ocean, eyes alight with a power that Fenris had rarely seen him wield.

  He flicked his wrist, much as Danarius had earlier, and then brought down another lightning strike on the ship. 

  The  _ CRACK  _ of the lightning striking, ripped from the fade and brought into their reality to wreak destruction, was something Fenris felt in his very bones and he was honestly shocked when, at the end of it, he had remained standing.

  A fire erupted where it had struck the wood, quickly gaining in size as it began to spread and from below deck Fenris saw several crew mates spill out, smoke licking at their heels as they attempted to flee the disaster. Distantly he realized that he recognized several of them, and was not sure whether to laugh hysterically or to beg for their help. 

  Isabela, terror of the Eastern sea, was now above deck, a feral look on her face as she looked for the man who had damaged her precious ship. Anders for his part had disappeared beneath the waves again and with any luck he would remain there. If he was  _smart_ he would remain hidden.

  “Captain Isabela!” Fenris called out, running as fast to the burning ship as he could. He watched as she whipped around, cringing at the fury he saw in her eyes, only to watch as it gave way to confusion.

  “Fenris?” She shouted, her arms which held both of her knives aloft dipping slightly. “What-”

  “I am in need of your assistance again,” he said as he finally made it to the bow of the ship, panting. “There is little time to explain and I know that it is wrong to demand it of you, but I- I need your help in fighting this man, Danarius.”

  “Danarius? He hired us to transport precious cargo that…” Her words trailed off as she looked over Fenris, appearing to come to several conclusions at once. “That bastard,” she finally spoke through gritted teeth, “Thought I would help him transport-”

  “Will you help me?” He knew he was being impatient but he truly did not have time for this conversation. Behind them Danarius may have been distracted by the burning ship and the crew but it wouldn’t hold him for long.

  “Yes,” and this time she was smiling. It was not a pleasant thing but Fenris was relieved to see it.

  He knew he could not ask for anything else, and yet: “Do you have a weapon I can borrow?”

  “Darling,” she replied, pulling out a large, curved dagger that she had managed to conceal… Somehow on her person, and handing it to him, “I never go anywhere without a few back-ups.” And then she stepped up onto the railing of the ship, managing to balance perfectly, and pointed one of her daggers at the mage before her while around her her crew was fighting to contain the blaze.

  “Danarius!” She called out, her voice a war cry that sent a shudder through Fenris, like an echo of the lightning and thunder from earlier. “I will not stand this insult. I challenge you to a duel!”


	23. On a Moonlit Beach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey look, i got this out before another month went by, go me!

  Danarius’ lip turned down briefly and then, very slowly, it curled upward. 

  “Come now,” he said, “There is no need to be offended. You are, without question, the most infamous and successful smuggler in the region. Why shouldn’t I have gone to you, to assist me in this matter?” He opened his arms to her, a placating gesture.

  “I don’t deal in  _ people _ ,” she snarled, taking a careful step forward on the rail and then another, slowly moving closer to Danarius, the daggers in her hands not wavering for a moment.   

  Fenris felt his skin crawl to be so casually spoken of, felt the anger and humiliation burn in his skin. He was no object to be fought over and, though he ached and hurt from their previous fight he finally spoke, teeth gritted.

  “You will not have me Danarius.”

  The mage looked to him, eyebrows slightly raised as if surprised to hear him speaking up. 

  “Oh, I believe I will. And I will have you obedient, none of this back-talk.” He turned his attention away from Fenris and towards Isabela then, as if the elf and his opinions were of little import.

  “Now, I believe that we can come to some sort of agreement, hm? Perhaps more gold? I know that I was not entirely forthright but I believe you can understand why I would want to keep this quiet. And I know that you are, at your heart, a businesswoman, so name your price- Believe me when I say that I have deep pockets. Deep enough to afford you.”

  How much gold, he thought caustically, was he worth? One hundred gold pieces? Perhaps two hundred?

  Next to him he felt Isabela calmed and he felt his heart stutter as she smiled, suddenly feeling nervous himself. He clutched the dagger that she had given him tighter in his hand, preparing her to turn on him for the promise of unimaginable riches. She was, after all, a smuggler with little morals and he knew he could not realistically expect much in the way of loyalty from her.

  “Oh I have a price,” she said, voice sultry, and Fenris felt his heart sink low. Of course, he had been a fool to expect her help. Still, he had been given a brief reprieve and perhaps if he ran…

  “The price,” she continued, “Is your head.”

  As the last of her words hit him Fenris watched her disappear from on top of the railings only to appear at Danarius’ back, daggers gleaming dangerously under the low light of the moon. She was as silent as smoke, as hell-bent on her target as a loosed arrow. She brought her knives down, only to hit a barrier that Danarius had conjured just as she has disappeared.

  He laughed as she was stopped, having to pull back and suddenly deal with the shades that he had raised from the ground. In the next moment Danarius’ eyes met Fenris’, gleeful, and the elf was broken out of his reverie.

  He growled as Isabela had just now and moved forward, intent on finishing this as quickly as possible.

  
  


  “I am coming.” 

  The king was staring down at his daughter fiercely who was returning his look with her own stubborn glare. What had happened to the little girl sobbing over her brother? He wondered, beside himself, The proper lady that his nurseries had supposedly been raising?

  “I will not argue with you and furthermore I do not have the time for this nonsense. Return to your rooms at  _ once.” _

__ “I can show you the secret passage way- The shortcut. The one that they used, where Fenris and I found them.”

  Varania stared back at the disbelieving faces of her father, Aveline, and several of the other guardsmen as she said this and then crossed her arms over her chest as if to give herself more authority. It was something she often saw her father do and, well, it generally seemed to work for him. 

  Aveline looked between the regent and his daughter, silently thinking that chasing after a violent kidnapper was absolutely no place for a girl but also understanding just how painful it was to have to stand aside, unable to do anything.

  “Perhaps she might show us the way and then she can stay behind while we get Fenris back.”

  The king shot her a look before finally grumbling something and waving his hands in the air. He wanted to argue but was also aware that time was of the essence and that every second they spent arguing was another second they were failing to locate and rescue his son. “If  _ anything  _ were to happen to her…”

  “It will not,” Aveline replied, voice firm.

  Varania looked between the two, eyes wide, and when her father finally turned his head away, a deep scowl on his face, she dropped her arms in disbelief. Suddenly she felt light-headed and nauseous, her heart beating almost as quickly as it had been when she had run back through the castle and to Aveline. They were- Depending on her now. To find Fenris and Anders. And if she failed…

  “Princess,” The guard captain had stooped a little again, her face kind but firm. “Please, lead us to where they are.”

  Varania nodded and, taking a deep breath said, “Yes- It's the passageways leading away from- Well, follow me.”

  The king, Aveline, and several other guardsmen, all heavily armed, thus began to follow the girl, each praying that this would not be a mistake.

 

  The path was as she remembered it, long, twisting tunnels that took them from fine, carpeted hallways to dank, damp passages where moss and mold grew in the cracks of the stones. She took the lead though her father and Aveline kept close behind and when finally they exited outside as she had a few hours before she felt Aveline place a hand on her shoulder.

  “They're gone,” Varania whispered, heart clenching painfully when she saw the mostly empty field before them. Behind her the adults were taking in the evidence of the previous battle, the dead bodies and decomposing shades. Her father slowly turned to her, an unreadable expression on his face. 

  “You… Saw this?”

  Varania blinked and looked up at him, suddenly even more nervous. She was afraid that he would be angry with her again, afraid that he would somehow discover that she had used magic.

  “Yes,” she finally said, quietly, “Fenris told me to run, to get you. I thought… I don’t know.”

  Her father opened his mouth as if he were about to say something only to be interrupted.

  “Captain,” one of the guardsmen had moved to the periphery of the small clearing and was frowning while holding his torch close to the ground. “There’s a bit of blood here and tracks- It looks like something heavy was being dragged through the grass.”

  Something heavy, like a body. The guardsman did not say this but everyone knew it, were thinking it.

  “Then we will follow it,” Aveline said, and turned back to Varania. “Thank you for your help. But you must go back now.”

  Varania knew that Aveline was right and, what was more, that she could not be of any further help. Though the beat of the magic in her blood was strong, begging to be used, she knew what would happen to her if she did. And more importantly that Fenris and Anders would be better served if she stayed back.

  Just as her father was about to open his mouth a rumbling sound came from the distance, deep and ominous. The rest of the group straightened, all staring towards the source of the sound. Around her Varania heard the scraping sound of several weapons being unsheathed and tensed as the noise grew in volume.

  And then, seemingly from nowhere, a giant lightning strike burst from the sky, illuminating a small ship some distance away. It was too far away to make out any people but Varania knew with a heavy heart that that had to be where Anders and Fenris had gone. And the lightning strike…

  She remembered sitting in front of Anders as he had gently explained to her how to use magical electricity. It was often too dangerous to use underwater but a little mage like her would be able to use it with some care. It was a good offensive tool, the mer had explained to, and something she would be strong enough to call down lightning from the very heavens themselves. 

_ Anders _ ,  _ Fenris,  _ she thought as the world was briefly cloaked in darkness again, the short flash of light disappearing only for flames to suddenly erupt, like a signal for help, one that she knew then that she could not ignore. 

  Varania began running and if she could hear the yelling behind her she did not heed it. 

  
  


  He had only ever been taught close quarters combat and his enemies had only ever been mundane which made Fenris ill prepared to deal with a man of Danarius’ skill. Every time he cut down a shade two more seemed to pop up in their place, like some sort of demonic hydra, and although some of the other members of Isabela’s crew had joined the fight they were all quickly growing tired. 

  With a shout of frustration and rage he cut through several shades standing between him and Danarius, skillfully evading their hungry claws and cold, dead eyes. When the last one dropped to his feet, wailing and shrieking, he realized that Danarius’ barrier had temporarily fallen.

  He did not think- He did not have the time- He only acted, sprinting forward before the man could block himself off again, raising his dagger high.

  Danarius brought his staff up, catching Fenris’ dagger which sunk into the wood. Fenris grunted, struggling to pull it out only for the mage to pull his staff down suddenly. It caught Fenris off guard and he stumbled to the side, barely avoiding the quick swipe of Danarius’ staff as he tried to attack him and losing his dagger in the process. 

  “You are being very disobedient,” he said to Fenris, eyes glittering, “This would all have been so much easier if you would have just come onto the ship like I wanted you to.” 

  Another swipe of his staff, another dodge. Fenris was struggling again, knowing that if the stave hit him he would have nothing to defend against the blow. He was weaponless now too and Isabela and her crew, who had been helping him, were struggling to take down a rage demon that Danarius had conjured.  

  “If you stop now I promise your punishment will not be so harsh,” he continued, his teeth flashing white in a smile that left Fenris feeling cold. “I can be very magnanimous, when I wish to be.”

  “You will not have me,” Fenris snarled, needing his anger to give him strength, “And I will not let you go after what you did to Anders.”

  “Is that the name of that mer? I didn’t catch it over his screaming.” 

  For a moment Fenris’ mind was perfectly blank and then it was filled with such an unholy rage that all he could do was give a guttural cry and then rush Danarius, hands out stretched. It did not matter that he did not have a weapon- He did not need one, did not  _ want  _ one, when he could kill the mage in front of him with his own two hands.

  Danarius chuckled and, taking advantage of Fenris’ anger, brought his staff down on the other man’s shoulder. Fenris grunted, dropping to his knees only for a moment before struggling upright again.

  “I will kill you,” he raged, panting, and when Danarius swung his staff in order to land a blow to his ribs Fenris caught it.

  The mage was caught off guard, having expected to be able to fell Fenris with the hit. He had briefly run out of mana and now was forced to use his stave as a weapon instead. He had hoped to end this battle quickly but with the sea captain turning on him, as well as Fenris fighting back, he had quickly found himself mired deep in combat.

  And now the elf, who he had hoped to distract with his taunting, was fighting against him with a fury beyond what Danarius had expected. 

  He would never admit it, but he was having trouble keeping up. 

  Fenris, holding the staff, shoved it back against the mage, pushing the other man to the ground. He stood menacingly over him, chest heaving and hands shaking with his anger.

  “You will pay for what you have done.”

  
  


  The thundering of armored feet followed her as she ran, chest heaving and burning for air. Her legs trembled, screaming at her to stop, but she ignored them as the sounds of fighting reached her. A scene not unlike the one earlier appeared before her and she briefly stopped at the top of the hill, looking down at it. 

  Quickly she scanned it, spotting her brother and several other people fighting but no Anders and felt her heart drop. The lightning strike had to have come from him but the only other mage that seemed to be helping her brother was another young, dark-haired elvhen girl who was casting from aboard the ship.

  Her heart caught in her throat as she realized that the lightning strike might not have come from him, then. And if he was not casting then that meant- She felt tears prick at her eyes and tried to tell herself that he might have just run low on mana. It was a weakness of mages that he had explained to her. No one could keep casting forever, after all, and that had to be why she couldn’t find him on the battlefield. 

  Behind her she heard her father’s shouting, an ugly sound, and without thinking she began to descend the hill, stumbling clumsily, trying not to fall outright. She wanted to join in on the fight, to help as she had before, but she knew it better not to. Aveline and her father would help Fenris and she…

  She would find Anders.

  
  


  “You will pay for what you have done.”

  Danarius stared up at Fenris who now stood over him, glowering, his hands curled into loose fists. He had not expected things to go this way but as he felt his reserves of mana slowly but surely refilling he told himself that this was not the end. He did not want to kill his little pet- Truly he did not- But he refused to die for someone like him and if that was the only option that was left well, everyone had to make difficult choices at times. 

  “To that mer? He was simply a means to an end. Torturing him was fun, but he was never the real prize.”

  If Fenris thought that he could not grow any angrier he had clearly been wrong. He could barely contain it, could barely keep it from warping his judgement. 

  He advanced slowly on Danarius, one step at a time, while the other man crawled backwards through the sand like the slug he was. Fenris wanted to crush him, like an insect, like something small and insignificant. But he also wanted him to suffer, thirsted for his blood and pain with a hunger that was so visceral it was almost physical. 

  He had hurt Anders, had tried to hurt Varania and had tried to take him to be some- Fenris could not even think of what it was exactly that Danarius had wished to do with him. It did not matter, nothing but his death mattered now. 

  He took another step and watched as Danarius butted up against one of the sides of the ship, now unable to move anywhere else. He was trapped, and Fenris would finish him here with the sounds of fighting dying around them, the sand waiting eagerly beneath him to soak up his blood. 

  “Go ahead,” Danarius whispered, eyes bright. Fenris assumed it was with madness but the mage knew it was with triumph. He had stalled just long enough, had built his mana up just enough for one last, killing spell. All that the elf had to do was touch him. 

  Fenris raised his hand and, snarling, brought it down to fist in his Danarius’ chest and drag him upright.

  At the same moment Danarius unleashed his spell, a lightning one that should have electrocuted Fenris and melted the flesh from his bones. It met him just as Fenris’ hand touched his chest and then did something that neither man expected. 

  Fenris’ hand, once corporeal, disappeared into Danarius’ chest with ease. 

  Danarius, shocked, could only stare. And Fenris, remembering a long ago memory, closed his eyes briefly.

  He opened them again, needing to see this, needing to see Danarius as he wrapped his hand around his still beating heart and then ripped it from his chest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> isabela's line is a vague paraphrase of one of my favorite lines of dialogue ever, which is o-ren ishii (of kill bill) saying "The price you pay for bringing up either my Chinese or American heritage as a negative is... I collect your fucking head."  
> god i love that movie


	24. Goodbyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. It's the beginning of the end. I think there will be 1-2 more chapters after this, plus an epilogue.   
> I'm also sorry this chapter is a little short but I promise the next one will be coming soon.

  The blood washed over him hotly as it spurted out of Danarius’ chest, the large organ still beating in his hand as if it had not yet realized that it had been separated from its master. Below him the man gasped once, twice, and then collapsed, eyes open and still. Fenris dropped the heart and then kicked it away when it landed next to his feet, watching as it rolled clumsily through the sand before coming to a stop.

  Behind him he could hear the voice of the Captain of the guard, as well as several of her men and even his father. They were too late to make much difference in the battle but the fact that they had come after him, his father especially, mostly made up for it. 

  Turning around he met his father’s gaze and then slowly began walking towards him, feeling more empty and exhausted than before. Killing Danarius had been satisfying, yes, but now all he really wanted to do was to curl up somewhere and rest and heal.

  His father, and several of the guards rushed to him and he vaguely noticed Aveline moving off to the side as if looking for something.

  “Are you alright? What happened to you?” His father’s questions distracted him from thinking of much else as he focused on trying to answer him. 

  “I will be fine,” he said, “I was- The emperor-” He briefly looked back at the body and his father turned pale when he saw it. “He wanted… He was fascinated by what was done with me. He tried to take me.”

  “I see,” the king said and then finally nodded. “Good. I- Am glad to see you safe.”

  “She’s out in the water-” he heard Aveline shout from behind them, a note of panic in her voice. “Varania-”

  His father swore and then quickly began moving to where Aveline stood on the shoreline, Fenris following after them. 

  “Varania is here? You let her  _ come _ ?”

  “I did not- She ran away from us-” His father started, trying to defend himself.

  “Maker,” he heard one of the guards say, “There’s some monster in the water with her-”

  Fenris looked out and then stopped, watching as Anders gently grasped Varania so that she would not have to tread water or possibly drown. 

  “No,” he said, “That is no monster. She’s safe.”

  His father stood beside him, obviously tense, and watched the two, both hands clenched into fists, “Is that- The mer that was brought here-”

  “Yes,” Fenris said, “It is.” He could feel his father’s confusion but was not particularly interested in explaining. He only wanted to watch two of the people that he loved most in the world, before he was forced to say good-bye.  

 

  Varania moved as quickly as she could, feet sinking slightly into the sand with every step. It was maddening, this forcibly slow movement, and it only became worse when she made her way to the water.

  It was cold and quickly drenched her skirts, filling her boots with grimy sea-water. Between her breathless panting she gasped in shock but forced herself to trudge on and, when she was far enough from shore she shouted, “Anders!  _ Anders! _ ”

  Something moved in the water then, peeling itself away from the hull of the ship, and when it came more into focus she sighed and closed her eyes. 

  “Varania,” he said, wading in the water, looked cold and even more pale than usual. “You shouldn’t be here.” His voice sounded tired and old and she frowned, reaching a hand out to him.

  “You’re hurt,” she said, and though it was a little scary she forced herself further into the water, past the point at which she could keep her feet on the ocean floor. But then, there had been so much to fear lately and she found that, much like her other anxieties, she was capable of conquering this as well. 

   Anders grasped her after she awkwardly paddled to him, taking a hand and brushing away some of the damp hair that had fallen into her face. She was a dear girl and there was a part of him happy to know that Fenris would have someone like her to take care of him. 

  “Heal yourself,” she said, a little desperately. “You’re bleeding into the water.”

  “Later,” he said, thinking that he needed to get her back to the shore. He shouldn’t even have answered her calls, but hadn’t been able to ignore the distress in her voice. “ ‘m drained of mana.”  

  Varania frowned and then, ignoring his protesting, placed both hands on his cheeks. Healing spells were among the first that he had taught her after she had learned to control her magic. It had been a specialty of his and she knew that he had hoped to pass such secrets onto her. 

  She would never be a spirit healer, as he had called himself, but as her hands took on a soft green glow she knew she could do this at least. There was an awful lot, she was learning, that she could do.

  “Thank you,” Anders said when she finally pulled her hands away. “You need to get back to shore.”

  “Not without-” She stopped, realizing what she had been about to say.

  “I will miss you,” Anders said, when Varania was unable to continue. “I am so proud of you. You have come so far.”

  “But I haven’t learned everything- What if I have questions and need-” Her voice had taken on a pleading tone, her grip on Anders’ tightening. 

  “Shh, you’ll be fine. I know you will be. You’re smart and Fenris will help you.”

  “He’s not a mage,” she said, voice desperate as she tried to find some way to get Anders to stay, for things to go back as they had been, briefly, “He can’t help.”

  “You might be surprised,” Anders said gently, “Now go back, they appear to be looking for you.”

  When Varania turned to look behind her she could see Fenris and her father standing on the shore, staring at the two of them. Her father’s armor had blood on it and her brother looked so tired and concerned, both of their faces lined heavily in worry and shadows. 

  “Good-bye,” she said, turning to him and trying not to cry. “I’ll miss you.”

  Anders looked then from her to Fenris and then back to the girl again. “Perhaps,” he said, “This is not the last time we will meet. The castle is close to the beach, after all.” 

  She sniffled and tried to restrain the hope in her voice. “Really?” 

  “It is unsafe for me to live so close to people but maybe, sometimes…” 

  Varania nodded, grateful to not have her friend leaving entirely. “The next full moon- Witches are supposed to be more powerful then.” 

  Anders blinked, not having expected to hear that kind of superstition out of her.

  “Well- Yes, the next full moon.”

  “Okay.” She said, and was even able to give him a little smile. Behind them came the sound of splashing and they both turned back to see Fenris making his way through the water, grimacing. He was covered in blood but was still standing and Anders prayed that most of it belonged to someone else. 

  “Varania,” Anders said, voice soft, “Go back to the shore.”

  Anders felt her hands clutch tighter onto him, briefly, before finally letting go. She swam to Fenris until she was able to stand again and hesitated before nodding and moving past him, still having to struggle through the water. Something secret had passed between the siblings, something that the mer could not hope to translate. 

  “Anders,” Fenris was now only standing a few feet away, the water coming up to his chest. “I…”

  “I know love,” he replied, swimming closer and grasping his hand. “I know.”

  He couldn't take it any more- grasping Anders by the shoulders he hefted him up, kissing him desperately, with the hunger of a man that knew that this would be their last. Fenris also knew that his father was watching him, undoubtedly they all were, Varania, Aveline, the other guardsmen and Isabela and her crew, but in that moment he found that he couldn't care less.

  “I will never forget you,” he said, voice rough. 

  “I know,” Anders said again and this time he was actually smiling. “How could I forget a set of lips like that?”

  Fenris made a strange noise halfway between choking and laughing, all the while holding onto Anders who held him just as fiercely. The last time they had done this they had not had the luxury of touch and Fenris was not going to squander something so precious.

  “Go on,” he said finally, after several long minutes. “I- You’ll be able to go back safely now, I promise.”. 

  “Yes,” Anders said, even though every instinct inside of him told him not to let Fenris go. “I… Yes.”

  Slowly he let go and then turned away from Fenris, wading out into deeper waters. Fenris watched as he went and when Anders turned back to look at him briefly he gave him what he hoped was a brave smile.

  Finally, however, Anders dipped beneath the waves and the last thing Fenris saw of him was the red of his tail, flashing in the moonlight.

  From her position in the shadow of the trees Morrigan watched the group of people on the beach below, illuminated by the moon and the embers of the ship that had nearly burned. A part of her had wished to aid them, still guilty with the knowledge that she had set so many of these events in motion.

  But it was far better for her to escape now, while all was still fairly chaotic and they still believed her to be safely locked away in her prison. She told herself that she had done all that she could to make things right and that now it was time to return to the wild of the forest, her home. They could punish her further, could kill her if they wished, but she had paid a price with her imprisonment and with turning the prince back.

  She had only ever wanted to help. And she was sorry that things had gone so badly.

  Sighing quietly she readjusted her rucksack over her shoulder and turned away, disappearing into nothingness once more.


	25. An Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... This is it, the last chapter (and then an epilogue.) It's long for which I apologize, and also probably doesn't quite wrap up everything for which I apologize, again. 
> 
> I hope that everyone likes it. I really appreciate everyone's comments and kudos on this, especially as I didn't expect this to be an overly long fic. I do actually hope to revise this someday but that is far off in the future when I don't have 30 WIPs screaming at me.

  “I believe that the last of the negotiations will come to a close this week,” his father said as he sat beside him, carefully sipping from a mug of tea. “It helps, of course, that Emperor Danarius’ heir was so eager to assume the throne. While many at court clamored for war after they learned that you had killed him, the new Empress would not hear it.”

  “I am glad, then,” Fenris replied, finger idly tracing the rim of his own cup. They were standing up in one of the parapets, watching the harbor below them. This far away Fenris could not hear the yelling of sailors but the sea wind still whipped up his hair and every so often a seagull flew past, screeching. 

  For a long time there was silence between them, the king unsure of how to break it and Fenris unwilling to. His father had hoped that if he spent more time on his son that perhaps it would ease the pain of losing that mer but he didn't think it had worked very well at all.

  It wasn't as bad as when he had almost drowned, which was some small comfort. Fenris actually left his rooms on occasion, even if only to go to the library or gardens, but there was an air of deep melancholia that he wore around himself like a cloak and which he never seemed to truly take off.

  “Isabela and her crew have captured another large ship- As successful of a pirate as she was she is doing even better as a privateer.” Because of their role in helping to save Fenris Isabela and her crew had been given legal immunity and had been offered high ranking posts in the navy. The first they had gladly accepted but the second they had respectfully, or as respectfully as Isabela ever was, declined. They had agreed, however, to become privateers and raid other ships in the name of the king. All the excitement of swashbuckling and none of the risk of hanging, or so Isabela had told him.

  “That is good to hear as well,” Fenris said, tone still listless. He closed his eyes and imagined feeling the splash of water on him, of diving into the ocean and swimming as freely as he once had.

  His father drained his tea and then set it down, leaning more heavily against the stone wall.

  “I see no reason,” he said, suddenly hesitating, “Why you could not have a ship again yourself. A small one, perhaps, for you to take out to sea whenever the urge struck you.”

  Fenris blinked, his interest finally caught before he quickly forced it down. “I appreciate the offer but…”

  But he knew that if he agreed to such a thing, if he took the ship out to sea, he would just spend all of his time searching for someone who was not there.

  It had been, what, one month? Two months since he had seen Anders go? The mer was now long gone. 

  “Think on it,” his father said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “When you are ready it will be waiting for you,” he said before turning and leaving Fenris to his thoughts.

  
  
  


  Varania and her father walked through the gardens as they had taken to doing, the king trying, and somewhat succeeding, in spending more time with his children. He still blamed himself harshly for all that had happened but watching his daughter pick out daisies and embrium or his son smiling at something he was reading was a penance that only the kindest of Gods could have bestowed upon him.

  He was grateful, for all that he had almost lost. For all that he had kept despite his own failings. He could have, should have been punished more. He thanked the Maker every night that he had not been.

  “Father,” Varania started, voice hesitant. “If I tell you something will you promise not to get angry at me?”

  “Are you planning a coup?”

  “No, Father,” she replied with a small smile.

  “You would make a better Queen than me anyway. But as those are not your goals then yes, I promise not to get angry.”

  Despite this it still took Varania several long seconds to work up the courage to speak. 

  “The mer has been visiting me. He told me he would only come once a month but I see him… More often.” The truth was that she was sneaking out almost nightly to see him- At this point she was an old hack at getting past her slumbering nursemaid. 

  “Why? Does he see Fenris at all?” Everyone had seen the embrace the two had shared and it had become patently obvious the nature of their relationship. No one, of course, had actually said anything to the prince but…

  “No- He- He's scared of hurting Fenris. He thinks it'll be harder to live apart, if they see each other so often. He thinks that Fenris will learn to forget him and move on.”

  “So he goes to you for… News of Fenris?”

  The king remembered that night, the night Fenris had gone missing again, standing on the beach and watching his daughter as she had clung to the creature. He remembered the soft green glow he had seen, how her hands had pressed against the mers cheeks. He remembered all of the things he told himself about how mundane and normal his daughter was. How his eyes had clearly been deceiving him. 

  “...yes.” Varania finally said. “He still cares deeply for him. And Fenris…”

  Neither needed to say anything, they both knew how the prince had been.

  “Would it be so terrible,” Varania asked suddenly, “If he were to abdicate? I know that I'm not as trained as him but-” But she could see no other way for him to be with Anders. And despite what the mer told her, despite what Fenris told her she was not going to give up on this.

  The king looked at his daughter in astonishment, finding it difficult to believe what she was proposing.

  “You  _ know  _ that Fenris does not really want the crown,” she said at her father's look. “And if he- if he did- then he’d be forced to marry someone he didn't love and he loves Anders and I… I wouldn't mind really, I'd do it for him…”

  “Varania,” her father said quietly, “I know that you want to help your brother. But this is not the way to do it. This is his birthright and that cannot be taken away from him.”

  “And if he does not want it? What then father?”

  The king watched his daughter who was now standing before him, fists clenched, eyes glassy with unshed tears. She had so much composure, he thought, for a mere girl of 13. He wondered how she would appear as a woman, perhaps with a mantle trimmed in ermine around her shoulders.

  He stood for a moment in awe of his daughter, filled with so much love for her. There was no feeling quite like watching one of his children try so fiercely to protect and help and love their sibling. 

  “Then there are options,” he finally said, “But if, and only  _ if  _ Fenris truly wishes to give up his title.”

  Varania seemed to settle then, somewhat. Her expression was still stubborn but her shoulder and hands relaxed.

  There was a chance.

  
  
  


  “Fenris, dear, it’s good to see you,” his mother, alone in the gardens without any of her ladies attending to her, moved to sit beside him on the bench. Her voluminous skirts, a deep red color, puddled around her and down onto the paved walkway beneath their feet.

  “Mother,” he said, inclining his head to her. “I thought to read outside.”

  “It is a lovely day. One of the last few we’ll get for the year, I suspect.” She sighed quietly though she did not move from her rigid, upright position. 

  The two sat for a long moment, taking in the gentle breeze as it rustled the plants around them. A few had begun to drop their leaves for the year although many still held on tightly. 

  “How wonderful,” his mother continued, “To simply take in the day, to be with the one’s loved ones.”

  Fenris looked at her a little oddly- Though she often spoke formally, a side-effect of spending so much time at court, this seemed a little odd even for her. Still, he could not disagree.

  “Of course, Mother,” he said politely.

  “That is what is so important, is it not? One’s loved ones?”

  This conversation was going somewhere but Fenris, for all his intelligence, could not yet see the path. Carefully he set down the book he was reading,  _ The Fisherman and the Siren _ , to turn his attention more fully to his mother.

  “Above all else,” he replied.

  “More important than anything else. Than one’s duties or responsibilities. Than oneself. I would give up anything for you or Varania, my throne, my crown. All of it.”

  “I… Love you too, Mother.” Though he had always been close with his mother, far closer than with his father, he still had some problems being… Emotive. “I know that, of course. I have always known that.”

  She put a hand on his knee squeezing it slightly and said, making sure to look him in the eyes. “Fenris. Your father told me about the mer.”

  He stiffened and pulled away and his mother let him, though her eyes kept him from leaving the bench entirely. He waited in tense silence- No one had really spoken to him about it and he was in no hurry to discuss it.

  His mother, seeming to sense that he would not offer anything willingly to the conversation soldiered on.

  “I cannot claim to understand. When I saw him… In that glass enclosure…” She took a deep fortifying breath before continuing. “I was so terrified. And so scared for you. And then, you were…” She remembered those terrible hours, seeing how her son had been transformed, had been mutilated. “Your father told me that the sea creature protected you. That it helped you.”

  “This… Is true. He did. He is a good-” Man? Mer? Creature? “Person.”

  “When you were missing I had nightmares of you being lost and alone or worse, dead. To know that you had a… Friend eases my heart more than you could know.”

  Fenris said nothing of the horrors that he had endured when he had been a mer. His mother already knew some of them, the hunter Meredith and her assistant had been put on trial and then imprisoned and anti-hunting legislation had been enacted based on his testimony. But she did not know the worst of it and, more importantly, did not need to. 

  “It was a great comfort to me as well. I do not know what would have happened to me, had he not taken me in.”

  “Your father also… Told me of your… Affection for him.” Her voice was gentle and, he could tell, confused. But not angry or outraged, which was what he had feared.  

  “Yes,” he finally said, his chest tight with anxiety. “But I- We parted ways.”

  “Oh, Fenris.” Though her mouth smiled he could tell that his words had made his mother unhappy. “You have already been through so much. I would not wish heartache on you as well.”

  “Mother, please, I am- Perfectly fine.” What he was really fine with was ending this conversation. He certainly didn’t need his mother forcing him to consider his emotions.

  “No,” she said, “You are not. You are my son and I know you, have known you from before you took your first breath. And I know when you are hurting.” She raised her hand then, setting it against his cheek. “And what I want most for you, what any mother wants for their child, is for you to not hurt anymore.”

  He searched her eyes, so wide and green like his own. He wanted to fight against her words but found himself weak in her presence. She was his mother, and he was her child and all he wanted from her were simple answers and comfort, the things she used to so easily give him as a child.  “I don’t know how not to," he finally said, voice nearly a whisper. "I try to move on, try to think of other things. But every day and every night I think of him. I was given so little time with him and I… And I…”

  “Fenris,” she said, “This is not something you move on from.” And there, just before she blinked it away, Fenris thought he saw something, some echo of his mother’s past that he could not understand and would likely never fully know. He realized then, when she spoke again, that she was doing so from experience. “And I do not think you should try.”

  “What then?” He asked, “I cannot live like this forever.”

  “I do not think you should.”

  He began to grow frustrated, not knowing what, exactly, his mother thought or wanted from him. 

  “You want me to- Leave everything behind? Go running off after my lost love?” He might have snorted, had he not been so heartsick.

  “Not leave  _ everything  _ behind,” his mother replied, her voice as steady as if they were still talking about the weather. “But you certainly wouldn’t need your court dress on a ship.”

  He blinked, and then realized that his parents must have been talking together, about him. Not to pressure him into any particular choice but rather to give him permission. To try and free him from some of his guilt.

  Suddenly his chest felt a great deal lighter.

 “No,” he said, “I suppose I wouldn’t.”

 “There’s the smart boy I know,” his mother said with a smile, more genuine this time, patting his cheek. “Always knowing the right thing to do.”

  
  
  


  That night when Anders swam to the side of the rocky outcropping where he and Varania generally met he saw not one but two sets of green eyes glowing at him from the dark. He stopped, wondering if perhaps he could escape back into the water, when the shorter pair of eyes scrambled over to him, calling him name.

  The taller one just stared at him and Anders, though he tried not to, could see the hurt and confusion there.

  “Varania,” he said, and then, hesitating, “...Fenris.”

  “Anders,” Fenris replied, stepping to the edge of the rock and staring down into the water where the mer floated. It had been several miserable, lonely months since he had last seen him, and he could not understand why…

  Varania had expected this reunion to be joyous but instead it was awkward, Fenris staring down at Anders and the mer trying to look anywhere else. She had had just wanted-

  “Varania,” Fenris said, his voice hard, “Leave us for a moment.”

  She didn't want to but finally she nodded, walking away from the edge of the bluff and back towards the beach. When they were finally alone Fenris turned back towards Anders, wishing he could somehow get into the water with him. 

  “...How long have you been coming?  _ Why  _ have you not..?”

  “A few nights every month, when the moon is full enough I can see,” Anders said, voice sad. “I couldn't leave Varania without a teacher. She’s so young and…”

  Fenris did not respond, his second question lying between them like something ugly, something neither wanted to look at.

  “I…” Anders swallowed heavily, needing another moment to formulate his response. “Varania needs me- She has no one else. But you… You don't or- You need to move on, to…

  “I can't pretend to really understand how you land dwellers work. But so long as you're the prince you can't be with me. And I can't- I don't want to keep reminding you of something you can't have.  _ I  _ can't stand seeing you and knowing…”

  “Anders,” Fenris said gruffly, after taking a minute to digest Anders’ words, “Move to the side.”

  “Wha-” He watched as Fenris suddenly began tugging at his boots and opened his mouth to ask just as Fenris stepped off the edge and fell into the water below.

  “Fenris!” he called out, waiting anxiously for him to bob above the surface again which he did, coughing and sputtering.

  “Why would you-” Anders started only to be interrupted.

  “ _ We  _ are going to have a conversation.” he said this, though the tone of his voice suggested something far more painful.

  “About what? How we can't be together? How our lives are so laughably incompatible? How the only way I can stay sane is to not see you, to  _ try  _ to not think about you however little that helps?”

  “Anders,” Fenris said, “I have come to make a few decisions.”

  “About  _ what!? _ ” Anders was aware that he was yelling, was aware that it helped nothing, but he couldn't stop himself. His chest was heaving and he had curled his hands into fists, upset though he was trying so hard not to be. It was just- He had not expected Fenris to be here, to see him, and it felt like all of the pain he had tried so carefully to bottle up was coming pouring out of him.

  When Fenris spoke again his voice was so quiet Anders almost couldn't hear it above the sloshing of the waves around them and he found that he had to focus, really  _ focus _ , to hear it. 

  “I am abdicating.” He finally said with a grave voice, as if that meant anything to Anders. When the mer just stared at him blankly he explained, “I am giving up my throne.”

  “ _ What? _ ” Anders felt his heart begin to race, knowing that Fenris had to be doing this because of him. And knowing, even more acutely, that he absolutely wasn’t worth it.

  “I have never truly desired it- My interest in the sea, in boats and the like, was simply a way to try and escape the confines of my life which worked, temporarily. But now…”

  “No,” Anders said, fierce, “I am not going to let you just- Just-” He made an angry motion with his hands, trying to find the words. “And how would that even work? You still have legs, if you haven’t noticed.”

  “The part of me treading water certainly has,” Fenris replied, voice dry.

  “You-” Anders, red-faced, frowned and grumbled, “Always so  _ funny _ .” He couldn’t even explain why he was so angry, only that- “Fenris, listen to me- I am  _ not  _ worth it. Your family, your friends, your throne, your  _ life _ . I can’t give you anything. Don’t give all of that up for me.”  _ And don’t, _ he thought silently to himself,  _ tease me with things I can’t have _ .

   When Anders finally settled down and the water calmed around them again Fenris spoke, “This is not just about you. I have… Wanted this for a long time. To be free of my responsibilities and duties. Before you I thought that I could suffer it, the feeling of suffocation. But you… I dream of you, dream of swimming beside you. I remember what it was like and I cannot go back. I cannot wake, day after day, listening to the sounds of seagulls and knowing that I will never watch them swoop and play over the water again. That I will never feel the spray of seawater against me or the coil of a rope in my hand. And I  _ cannot  _ survive knowing that you are out there, somewhere, and I am not doing everything I can to be with you. I cannot pretend anymore.” 

  The mer closed his eyes and huffed out a breath, before opening them to look at Fenris who was staring at him determinedly. 

  “Love,” he said, “Let me hold you before you lose all strength in your limbs and drown.”

  Fenris rolled his eyes but gladly grasped Anders, letting out a quiet sigh of relief that he no longer had to tread water and convince the love of his life that he was sincere at the same time.

  “How… How would we even..?” Anders started, unsure.

  “I take a small ship, one I can easily pilot on my own, and spend my days fishing and sailing beside you. Perhaps visit the occasional island. I would… Return to my family on occasion. But never as the prince, only as their son.”

  “You’ll get bored very quickly, trust me,” Anders said, voice desperate. “The ocean really isn’t that terribly exciting.”

  “I will have books, and you, of course, to entertain me.”

  “ _ Fenris _ ,” Anders said still with a deep frown on his face, unsure of what he was feeling exactly, only that it was much too much.

  “Anders,” he replied gently and squeezed the mer’s shoulder. “I am not going to leave this time. Nor ever again.”

  “Well,” Anders said, now clinging to the land dweller almost as fiercely as Fenris was grasping onto him. His grimace was now softer, more resigned than outright terrified. “I did try to convince you not to. Really. So it’s not my fault if you end up regretting this.”

  “And if I promise I will not? If I tell you every day?” 

  “I still won’t believe you but, well, if you give up after all that effort then you’ll  _ really  _ look like a fool.”

  “Of course, the perfect reason for me to stay with you.”

  Anders nodded enthusiastically and replied, “Yes. There’s nothing quite as motivational as a man’s pride being at stake.”

   “Not even love?”

   For a long moment Anders stared at Fenris, the full moon overhead giving him just enough light by which to look at the man. His eyes were wide and soft-looking and stared so expectantly at Anders that he found he could not look away.

  “Perhaps,” he finally conceded, “But only the love of a great man. A kind man, a formidable one, one who has had to make hard decisions and who has suffered much, with grace.”

  “Or the love of a man of great determination,” Fenris replied, “An unbreakable man, one who is both strong and gentle.”

  “Only then,” Anders said, a small but steadily growing smile on his face. “Only then would love be enough, I think.”

  “I could not agree more,” Fenris replied and this time when he kissed Anders it was not fiery or passionate but slow and gentle, like coming home after a long and treacherous journey only to fall into one’s bed and still find the imprint of yourself there. And grasping onto him was liking pulling the blankets up around your shoulders and knowing that, finally, you were safe.

  They broke up to stare at each other, to marvel at what they had, only to be distracted by a sudden girlish screeching from above. 

  “Look out!” Varania called out as she finally got her other shoe off and then jumped into the water near them, splashing both of them. Huffing and beginning to swim towards them she said, “Are you finally done being dumb adults?”

  “What- Varania were you listening the entire time?” Fenris was staring at his sister, aghast, while Anders was doing his best not to laugh.

  “Nooo. Well. Not  _ all  _ of it.”

  “Varania-” Fenris started, all scolding elder sibling.

  “Fenris, love, have a sense of humor,” Anders said, now allowing himself to chuckle a little. “Besides, she didn’t see any ‘gross adult stuff’ at least.”

  “I beg to differ,” Varania said, in a deadpan voice that was so like Fenris’ that the mer was briefly caught off guard before laughing even more boisterously. As he was doing so Varania finished her swim over to the two, grasping onto them and pulling them into a tight, if awkward, hug.

  For a few minutes they stayed that way until finally Anders shifted a little, grunting. “I love you, both of you, really, but I can’t hold you two up above the water forever.”

  Fenris sighed and nodded, “We should return to shore anyway, there’s a lot to be done in the next few days, including getting my ship ready. Though if I come back at night…”

  “I will be here,” Anders said, and then looked at the younger elf. “And I will be here for you too, for any magic-related questions you might have.”

  “Will you come back with Fenris to visit me then?”

  “Yes, as much as I can anyway,” he said. “Now go, the both of you. My arms are turning into sea-jelly.”

   “Sea-jelly?” Both siblings asked.

  “I will tell you tomorrow,” Anders replied, chuckling. “Now  _ go _ .”

  Fenris, the stronger swimmer, moved away first and then grasped Varania so that he could make sure that she got to shore. He gave Anders one last look before beginning to swim back and this time the smile he saw on his face was so hopeful and so loving. The fact that, soon, Fenris would be able to look at that smile day after day was enough to bring one to his own face.

  Love, he thought, was enough for that at least.


	26. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp. this is the end. seriously though, i really hope that you guys enjoyed this and that i managed to wrap it up satisfactorily. and thank you so much for all of the lovely comments and kudos!

  The sun was warm on his scales and his skin, relaxing him and making him feel just a little bit drowsy as the heat seeped into his bones. Most of his tail was in the water while his upper portion lay reclining in the sand, a small, almost dreamy smile on his face.

  Behind him he heard the sound of footsteps as they made their way along the beach and towards him, their owner stopping before him and casting their long shadow over him.

  “You're blocking my sun,” he grumbled good-naturedly, and then made a shooing motion without opening his eyes. 

  “I thought that air dried mers out?” The voice stayed where it was, amusement evident.

  “After a bit, yes, and it’s always a little weird coming up for air after being so long underwater but haven’t you ever seen any of us basking in the sun? It’s a very basic part of our species.”

  “As is flexing while laying in the sun, I am sure.” The voice was wry now and Anders finally opened his eyes to look up at the elf who was giving him a small smile, his green eyes glinting with mirth.

  “Flexing?” He said, even as he relaxed his muscles, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Everything you see here is as it naturally is.” He waved his hand slightly over his body for emphasis.

  “Of course,” Fenris replied before sitting down next to him. Idly he began to bury his bare feet under the wet sand, letting the slow waves bury him more. “I must have been mistaken.”

  “Clearly,” Anders chuckled at that and then closed his eyes again, humming slightly. He felt… Content. Wonderfully, gloriously content. 

  Settling his head on Fenris’ shoulder he murmured, “You’re due to go back to visit in a bit, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, but only for a week or so, and then to get supplies. Then I will be back.” 

  “Give Varania my love? It sounds as though she’s doing wonderful, corralling those council members to her side.”

  “She has certainly grown into a ferocious young woman. My father would have been proud- He always told me that scaring one’s lords into submission was as much a responsibility as a privilege.”

  “He was proud of you too, you know.”

  Fenris raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “The son who left behind his throne and his duties to his younger sister so he could run off and splash around in the water with his lover?”

  “The son who followed his heart. And made many, many difficult decisions so that he could. Also,” he said, tugging on the piece of gold in Fenris’ right ear, which matched the one on his left. “He left to be with his husband. Or, soon-to-be husband at the time. Big difference.” His eyes were intent, not allowing Fenris to demean himself anymore. Fenris might not have considered all that he had done brave but Anders knew it was, and would never stop reminding him of it, so long as he lived.

  Fenris sighed and shook his head in response before murmuring, “Perhaps,” deciding not to argue. Still Anders could see that his shoulders had lost some of the tension that came whenever his father was brought up. It hadn’t always been that way in the beginning- Many nights Anders had tried to talk to Fenris about the king, about his leaving behind what he saw as his Maker-given responsibilities. It had never seemed to help, not at first, but as the years had gone on and Varania rose to her new title some of the guilt seemed to have left him. The fact that Varania actually seemed to enjoy being Queen had undoubtedly eased some of Fenris’ worry.  

  It helped, too, that he was still able to see his family. After a few years of sailing along the coast they had eventually found this island which appeared to be uninhabited, and, on it, made a home. Anders mostly remained in the water but Fenris had built a small dock where he tied the boat he had been given. They had briefly discussed building a cottage on land and with it a large bathtub so that Anders could spend time on land but they had eventually discarded the idea. Fenris was no builder and so long as Anders could flop up onto the dock to bother Fenris he was, for the most part, satisfied. 

  Not that things were always easy- It was difficult not to be able to lie together every night and if either wanted to storm away after an argument there was little the other could do about it. 

  But they had made it work now for years. And if sometimes it was hard, if sometimes it didn’t seem worth all of the struggle they had gone through, well then there were moments like this to remind them that it was.

  For a long time they sat together in peaceful quiet, saying nothing and letting the waves lap over their legs and tail respectively. The sun warmed them both, like a heavy, comforting blanket wrapped around them. 

  Finally, however, Anders turned to him, a predatory gleam in his eye. His lips were quirked into a little half smile, one that spoke of mischief. 

  “You know,” he said, leaning his body a little more heavily against Fenris’. “We won’t be able to see each other for a while once you leave.”

  “I am aware,” Fenris replied, not moving away despite the weight. His face said that it was very clear to him what Anders was trying to do but that he intended to enjoy the flirtation while it lasted. 

  “Well, I think I should send you off… Properly.” 

  “I do not expect much more than a wave from you, you know.” Still he could already feel the warmth, one which came not from the sun but from Anders’ hand on his thigh. 

  “Ah, but I have so much more to give.” His smile had become a grin and Fenris could see that he was trying to hold back laughter. “Come here,” he said, raising a hand to the side of Fenris’ face, “And kiss me.” 

  Fenris did as he was commanded, kissing Anders and tangling his hand in his hair before moving down to his neck, the mer groaning. His skin was warm and tasted of salt, things that had become familiar to Fenris and that he never tired of returning to.

  “I love you,” he whispered against his skin, though there was no one for miles around to hear them. He kissed Anders’ neck again and then his collarbone and his bare shoulder. 

  “Hmm? What was that? I couldn’t hear you-” Anders let out a little ‘oof’ as Fenris pushed him down and moved over him, rolling his eyes at his words. 

  “I think you may have water in your ears.”

  In response Anders shook his head and Fenris had bite down on his lip to stifle a laugh, not wanting to give in quite yet. 

  “There, now maybe I’ll be able to hear you?” 

  Fenris looked down at his husband as he lay below him, head slightly pillowed in the sand and hair spread him almost like a halo. Laying out in the sun had turned his face and his upper shoulders a little pink- No matter how long they stayed out in the sun he always seemed to burn rather than tan. He was, Fenris thought, quite possibly the most beautiful person in the world. And he was his.

  “Fen? You alright?” The good humor had disappeared from his eyes, replaced with genuine concern, and Fenris realized that he had been just staring at him.

  “Yes,” he said, and swallowed back the lump in his throat. “I am… I am lucky.”

  It was a sign of something, he supposed, that he didn’t have to explain himself any further. Anders seemed to know what he meant, without him even having to say the words. 

  “I love you too,” Anders said, and then he pulled his husband down on top of him and kissed him senseless, until the serious look was gone from his face, until all he had for him was laughter. 


End file.
